The Greatest Man
by AColorfulMind
Summary: The Detective's Daughter, Etheldrea Holmes, thought everything was fine. Her life was back to normal, and she finally made up with her dad. However, when a monstrous hound threatens her dad's sanity, and Jim Moriarty turns up again with a plan to destroy Sherlock, their relationship will be tested more than it ever has. Sequel to The Woman, The Diamond, and The Pariah.
1. Bribery and Below Part 1

**Hello everyone and welcome to story number four! The Greatest Man follows The Woman, The Diamond, and The Pariah. Etheldrea Holmes face model is Emily Rudd and Abigail Grey's is Anna Sophia-Robb.**

**Sorry this is a relatively short chapter, I tried extending it, but you can only go so far. The next chapters will definitely be longer, I promise. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"_No, no, I've got something _very_ special planned for her. But, if you do this, I might just leave her alone. Come on; how far are you willing to go? What would you do? Anything? Everything?"_

* * *

_She was curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the empty black chair in front of her. She sighed and turned to face the ceiling, her eyes glancing towards the spray painted smiley face on the wall behind her. She sighed again and turned towards the black chair once more. On the coffee table was a letter she had been putting off for days._

_She didn't want to read, she was too scared. Days ago everything in her life was flipped upside down, and this letter would only add to it. What could one more catastrophic event add? She would be happier if she didn't read it, but she wasn't happy to begin with. _

_She made a decision, and with aching limbs, pushed herself up and reached for the envelope. She ripped through the flap and pulled out the folded paper. Her hands shaking, she unfolded and began to read._

To my dearest daughter, you have absolutely no idea how much I love you and the length I would go to keep you safe. You are sure to have questions, and I'm sorry I can't be there to answer them. Certain events have compelled me to leave you but I know you will be better off.

_She stopped reading, a hand flying to her mouth and tears streaming down her face. She crumpled the letter in her one hand and stuffed it under the sofa cushion. She couldn't read it now, not yet._

* * *

_Five Months Earlier_

"Come on, pay up."

"_Fine_, ninety. There you go."

The three tenants of two-two-one B Baker Street were sat around the coffee table, the board game Monopoly in front of them. The tan, blonde haired man, named John Watson, was just passing around Go and about to pay the cheapest rent on the only street belonging to his flat mate next to him.

The man with very dark nearly black curly hair, pale skin, and silvery eyes, collected the money quickly. His name was Sherlock Holmes, and he was currently low on cash, and wouldn't be able to afford the next rent should he land on a space. While John wasn't looking, he leaned towards the teenaged girl on his right.

She was obviously his daughter for her short hair was the same color, and her skin and eyes were also the same as his own. Her name was Etheldrea Holmes, and she owned about half the board along with John.

So only she could hear, he whispered, "I will give you fifty for information on John's criminal records."

"I'm sorry?" she whispered back, John oblivious.

"You heard me. Fine, I'll go seventy-five, but that's it."

Etheldrea turned her head away and stifled a laugh. Then, she turned back and told Sherlock "what she knew".

"He runs a sex-trafficking ring in Brixton. Also he's been linked to an arson case where two people died. That's worth eighty."

He grumbled and paid her, "Fine."

Etheldrea made her turn, paid John her rent, and then it was Sherlock's turn. Without a doubt, he would have to declare bankruptcy after this. He rolled the dice, made his moves, and landed on Etheldrea's hotel. He didn't have enough, the last of his money only totaling to twenty.

John smirked, "Sherlock, you know what you have to do now."

Sherlock smirked also, "I think you'll find nothing happens now. Not if you want the police to know about your . . . business."

He scoffed, "What are you talking about?"

"Brixton, the ring. A little fire."

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Don't lie. I know about the sex trafficking you're doing. And the arson! Two people dead. Etheldrea told me."

She shook her head, and lied "He's lost it, and my money."

"I gave you eighty quid for that information!"

"What?" John asked, "Let me see."

"He's mad john!" Etheldrea said.

"I've been keeping track of your money, let me see."

Etheldrea sighed while Sherlock held up his only slip of money left. John knew they had been doing this but until now he had failed to prove it. He leaned his head back and gave an exasperated sigh.

"I win by default, again."

"What?" Sherlock and Etheldrea asked in unison.

"This is the third game where you two have cheated."

"But-"

"Nope! No, we're going to play something else, and I'm going to watch very carefully. Neither of you are going to cheat." He started packing up the game.

Etheldrea turned to Sherlock, "You do know I lied, right?"

"In reality, yes. I thought in game you'd be kinder."

"Oh please. I'll only do things to help myself."

"You just _had to be_ competitive."

"Dad, look who's talking."

John left to put the game away and came back with a new one entitled Cluedo. He started setting it up while Etheldrea looked over the instructions.

"Where the hell are you finding all these games?" Sherlock asked.

"Mrs. Hudson has a surprising lot of them."

"Why does she have all these?"

Etheldrea said, "Before I was old enough to go on cases with you, we'd play a lot of them. _We_ played them right."

"Oh shut up. You've been cheating too!"

"Only at Monopoly and Candy Land."

"We can't go wrong with this one, it's a murder mystery." John said, "You'll both enjoy this one and won't feel the need to cheat."

Sherlock took the instructions from Etheldrea, read them and then looked over the game materials. He had a slight frown on his face. John passed everyone their game pieces, blue for Sherlock, green for himself, and purple for Etheldrea. Then he chose the three cards and put them in the middle of the board. He made the first move.

"I suggest it was . . . Mrs. White in the Ballroom with the . . . Candlestick."

Etheldrea flicked through her cards and passed one to John, keeping Sherlock from seeing it. Then it was her turn. She rolled and moved her piece.

"Um, Miss Scarlett in the Study with . . . the Pipe."

Sherlock passed her two cards and she checked them off. Then it was Sherlock's turn.

"I want to make an accusation."

"What?" John asked, "We only just started. You can't have an answer yet."

"This Mr. Body person did it himself."

"What? No, that not how it works."

"It's the only possible answer."

"No, Sherlock, you're wrong."

"No, I'm not. I'll check it."

"No! It's not in the rules! We're looking for a murderer!"

"The rules are wrong!"

"It's impossible!"

"It might be improbable, but nothing's impossible."

Sherlock grabbed the envelope packet and took out the cards. He was smiling to himself, but it slowly turned into a frown. His lips thinned and he put the cards back, and then turned and sulked. John laughed and started his turn.

"See, what did I tell you?"

Sherlock mumbled, "It was Professor Plum in the Kitchen with the Rope."

"DAD!" Etheldrea shouted at the same time John shouted, "Oh for god's sake!"

He threw the cards down, stood up and walked into the kitchen. He came back a moment later.

"Alright. New game. I _know_ this next one can't go wrong."

Sherlock groaned, "I've had enough of these insufferable games. Can't we go ask Lestrade if there's been a murder instead?"

"No, just hang on."

John disappeared to the hall closet and came back a moment later with a deck of cards.

"Have you ever heard of Fifty-Two pick up?" he asked.

"No."

John smirked and then bent the cards as though he was going to shuffle them, but he let them go and they scattered everywhere around the floor. He sat back on the chair by the door and crossed his arms, still smirking.

Sherlock looked down at the floor, and then back at John with a monstrous look on his face. He made no attempt to pick the cards up, only staring at John. Slowly, the smirk began to fade and John got down and started picking the cards up. Etheldrea leaned to her side and laughed into a pillow, and she couldn't stop.

"Not in my flat. Try harder next time." Sherlock said.

"Continue to cheat and there won't be a next time."

"I didn't cheat at Cluedo."

"You ruined the game, you told the answers!"

"They were wrong!"

"SHERLOCK!"

Etheldrea sat up, still laughing, and started to pack up. They were getting absolutely nowhere with these games, but it was one of the funniest mornings she'd had in a while. After all the drama that had happened in the past six months, she was perfectly happy for this sort of normality.

Sherlock and John were still arguing at the moment there was knocking downstairs. She stood up and went to the window to see who it was, but the landlady, Mrs. Hudson, had already let them in. She heard running up the stairs, and a girl with golden blonde hair and blue eyes entered the room and spotted Etheldrea. Her best friend, Abigail Grey, ran at her, grabbed her hands and pulled her up, dragging her towards the door. She hid her face in her hands like she was about to cry.

"Abby! What's happened? What's wrong?

"I've got some news." She said solemnly.

"What?"

Her fun morning was shattered by two words.

"We're moving."

"What?" Etheldrea asked horrified.

"We're moving."

"Where?"

"Nineteen Star- cross Street."

"Star-cross? But that's so- wait." Etheldrea saw her friend start smiling, "Star- cross is literally a two minute walk from here."

Abigail started bouncing on her toes, I know!"

Etheldrea raised her hands in a claw gesture, "You had me thinking you were going away!"

"That was the whole point. I knew it would take a lot to fool you so I thought hiding my face would work best."

"Well, it did. Star- cross? We can walk home or car pool and you don't have to leave early anymore."

"I know! But what about my brother?"

"Forget about him, he can find a different way home."

Abigail had a twin brother names Adam, and it was no secret that he didn't like Etheldrea. No one in her school or age group did; she showed off too much as a kid and had been labeled as a freak. However Adam had a different reasoning than the others. When they had just started out as friends over a year ago, Etheldrea had been invited to a birthday party. However, she forgot and Abigail had been upset the whole night. Adam never forgave her.

"We're moving next week, you could come over and help me unpack. You so much better at organization than I am."

"Would your parents let me?"

"Don't worry about them. It's not like we're going after druggies in my room."

Abigail and Adam's parents also didn't like Etheldrea or Sherlock, but they had learned a long time ago they couldn't stop the girls from being friends. So, they tolerated it and pretended their daughter was hanging out with someone else, and not getting involved in trouble like uncovering drug deals and chasing after pickpockets.

"Good point."

Abigail stopped bouncing and quickly wrapped her arms around Etheldrea. Etheldrea returned the hug, surprisingly, and then broke it up after a moment.

"Can you stay?" she asked.

"Yeah. I don't have to be back until eleven."

"We're trying to play some board games, but I think you, John, and I would be better. What do you think John?"

"Yes! Without a doubt, yes!" he agreed, ending his argument with Sherlock.

Sherlock watched them, his eyes narrow and mouth dropped in a shocked manner. He laid out on the couch, purposely stretching the entire length so that no one else could sit on it.

"You big baby." Etheldrea said, "We'll just play on the floor.

Abigail laughed and went to go sit down by the black lounge chair, Etheldrea with her. John grabbed the game and went to set it up by them and he too took a seat on the floor. He set Cluedo up slowly and just as he started passing out cards, Sherlock got up and went to sit with them.

For the rest of the game, he was silent about his accusations, and they all had a great time. When the game ended though, Sherlock was surprised at the three cards.

"Regardless," he said, "I still think he killed himself."

* * *

**I now have a tumblr blog that I will be using to tell updates, upload pictures, answer questions, and even interact as Etheldrea. acolorfulmindfanfiction is my name, and you can also find a link on my profile. Go! Ask questions! If you want to me, put For Author in the message. If it's for Etheldrea, put For Etheldrea.**


	2. Bribery and Below Part 2

After the Grey's had moved, Etheldrea and Abigail were practically inseparable. They'd walked to and from school, stopping at shops or cafes now and then, going out on the weekends. It was during one of those weekends where they sat inside a café and were chatting. While there, Etheldrea noticed a suspicious figure outside. He was a tall man, with large muscles, and was wearing a hoodie. He couldn't be older than forty and was glancing around, his eyes flicking back and forth between people.

He started walking on the path towards the café, and then he bumped into someone. There wasn't much of an apology and the pair walked in their directions. However, a moment later, the man who was bumped started exclaiming and pointing in his opposite direction.

"Come on!" Etheldrea said, pulling Abigail from the table and out the door.

She looked down the street and saw him running at high speed, and she pulled Abigail with her, running after him.

"What's going on?" Abigail shouted as they ran.

"Pickpocket! Hurry before we lose sight of him!"

The girls ran down the path, through an ally and over a fence before finding themselves at the entrance of an abandoned meat company. They looked around carefully for any sign of the man, and then proceeded into the building though an archway.

They were quiet as they walked, taking care to stay close to old boxes and crates. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow move and motioned for Abigail to get down. She peaked out of the corner and saw him standing with his back towards them, apparently messing on his cell phone. Then he started walking away, towards a set of stairs. When she looked up, she saw an overseer balcony where the stairs were leading right towards. If he got up there, he would see them.

Etheldrea grabbed Abigail's hand and pulled her under the balcony, but the floor above them was still metal with punched holes and they would still be seen. She looked towards the ground and near their feet saw a hatchway.

"Call for help." Etheldrea whispered as she opened the hatch.

"My phone's dead." Abigail said after checking.

"It's fine, mine will do. First, get down here."

Etheldrea slipped down the latter, landed at the bottom and motioned for Abigail to follow her. After she made it down, the looked around the basement room and were surprised to find it filled with large steel boxes.

"What are they?" Abigail asked.

"Walk in freezers I think."

"There's got to be at least twenty of them."

"This used to be a meat shipping plant. This was probably the storage."

"Why is he hiding out here?"

"Don't know."

The girls walked along the floor, passing row after row of freezer. They were all in a neat line, and there were many more behind them. One thing Etheldrea noticed is that they were all in use and turned up to the highest setting. They shouldn't be, not when this place was shut down. At the end of the line, she frowned and went to open one of the doors.

It was tough at first, but the door gave way and then Abigail screamed. Quickly Etheldrea wrapped a hand around her mouth and muffled her, and then looked inside. In the door, frozen in a slumped position was the body of a man. Etheldrea let go of Abby, shut the door, and then pulled her around the box. Etheldrea took out her phone, but found there was no signal and thrust the phone into Abigail's hands.

She whispered, "No doubt he's heard you, he'll be coming. When he gets down here, I'll distract him, you get out and you go for help. Run to Scotland Yard, and call my dad. Got it?"

Abigail looked at her, mouth agape and eyes wide. Etheldrea took her hands and started pushing her towards the back, watching the stairs carefully. They were hidden behind another freezer, out of view of the stairs but easily escapable.

"You can do this, I know you can."

Abigail gulped and nodded her head. Etheldrea let her go and started backing away. As she did, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs and ran the rest of the way back. She slipped to the side of the second to last freezer and poked her head out. He was standing at the bottom in a predator position. Etheldrea took a deep breath, and faked tripping over.

"Get over here you little bitch!" He yelled, running for her.

She got up and ran forward, past two other freezers and ducked under some pipes connected to the ceiling. She went back as far as she could, granted it was only a few feet and against a wall, and the pickpocket now murderer was close to her. He ran into her view, and growled before getting on the floor and reaching under. He grabbed her ankle and she stepped on his hand. He gave a shout and let go, but tried again and this time pulled. She fell and then was pulled through.

She kicked him in the face and he backed up clutching at his head. Etheldrea jumped up and over him and then made a break for the stairs. However, ice on the floor caused her to slip and she slammed into one of the freezers. The murderer was behind her now and grabbed her under the arms. He was stronger than she thought, and he hauled to one of the freezers. She tried kicking and hitting, but he refused to let go even as he opened the door and tossed her in. Ungracefully, she landed on the cold metal floor and was more than positive she sprained her wrist. Even worse, she heard a click noise outside the door.

* * *

Abigail ran the moment he did, and she scrambled up the latter. Her footing got the better of her and at the last step, she tripped and the phone went flying. It broken open and the battery slid under a crate. She had no time to get it so she got up and ran like hell outside. Scotland Yard was at least half an hour by foot and she had no money for a cab. If she ran, and disobeyed all traffic signs, she could knock off ten minutes at most.

* * *

Etheldrea stood up, slowly and wearily. She looked around the room, searching for something better than the floor to sit on. She was shivering already and she needed to find some form of insulation. One handed, she took her scarf off and buttoned her coat as far as it could, only just below her neck. She turned the collar flaps up and used her neck to hold them in place as she rewrapped her scarf tightly. With that done, it took several attempts to pull her arms inside her jacket. She was able to do it, and then reached under the coat to tie the empty sleeves together. It was nealy impossible, but she utilized her teeth and got it done. There was nothing she could do but keep moving, wait and hope Abigail made it out.

In a few minutes, mental confusion would start. After that, as her body temperature started to lower, she'd feel no different than the room itself, motor movements would be slower and she'd stumble most likely, and then amnesia could happen. It wouldn't take longer than half an hour for Abigail to get help. She should be fine. Maybe a shock blanket would be needed, but surely nothing too bad. If she kept moving, she could try to delay the symptoms for just a bit longer.

* * *

Didn't Etheldrea have people watching her? She said one time she had more security than the queen, where the hell were they? It took her twenty five minutes, but she finally arrived at Scotland Yard. There was a guard at the front, trying to hold her back.

"I need to talk to Inspector Lestrade, now!"

"Now just hold on, what's the problem? You can't just-"

"You know Sherlock Holmes?"

"Of course."

"His daughter's in danger and I need to tell them!"

"OK, come on, let's go."

He led her towards the offices, and fortunately, Sherlock and John were already there. The moment she saw them, she ran for them.

"Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes, Etheldrea's in trouble!" she shouted.

"Where?" He asked.

"This- meat packaging place. It's near Cadogen Pier."

"I know where it is, let's go."

"Wait, he's a murderer. We thought he was a pickpocket but he killed someone." She called after them as they ran out.

Lestrade heard and started making calls for backup. Outside, Lestrade rushed the group into his car and they we off.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked.

"Etheldrea saw a guy steal something, we ran after him, got to this warehouse place to look for him, nearly got spotted and went to hide in this basement place, found like a billion freezers and a dead guy in one of them. I screamed, he heard, she told me to run while she distracted him."

* * *

Etheldrea was limping around the room, trying to keep the action going through her mind. If she stopped, she'd be dead. . . However, she didn't know why. But she had been telling herself to keep moving, so that's what she was doing. But she was so tired and her hand hurt every time she moved about, and the floor was starting to look inviting. Maybe a quick sit down would be alright. She kneeled on the ground and closed her eyes. After a moment, she felt as though she was falling and quickly stirred.

For a small moment, she remembered why she had to keep moving. Hypothermia had set in and was quickly turning severe. But hypothermia happened in the cold, and she wasn't cold. Was she? Trapped in a freezer and she wasn't cold. That didn't make a lot of sense. Why was she trapped? Why didn't she try to get out?

She tried to stand up, but her legs gave out and she fell. She frowned when she realized her arms were inside her jacket and the sleeves were tied together. When had that happened? Who did it? Why did it hurt? She tried to get out but it was too hard, and all that effort was making her tired. If she closed her eyes for just a minute, she could get some energy back. She'd be just fine.

* * *

The car stopped outside the building and men immediately began searching the perimeter. Abigail tried running towards the entrance but an officer pulled her back.

"We can't let civilians in a crime scene." Lestrade explained.

"They get to go!"

"They're a special case."

"She's my best friend!"

"Lestrade," Sherlock called, "I need her to show me the scene."

Lestrade sighed, "For a minute then, but wait until it's all clear."

So they waited, and after a few minutes they heard over a radio the suspect was running towards the right side entrance. At this, Sherlock and John ran inside, with Abigail trailing them. They saw the man make an exit with several officers after him. John started after the man but Sherlock called for him.

"He's getting away!" John shouted.

"Let the Yard deal with him. Did you notice the lack of Etheldrea with him?"

Abigail ran over the door she and Etheldrea had gone through to the basement.

"Down here." She called and started down.

"Abigail, wait!" Sherlock called.

"She's not down here." She shouted.

Sherlock climbed down and looked around.

"Where could she be?" Abigail asked.

"He wasn't acting like she was loose inside the building. I think he incapacitated her. Did you run from here?"

"Yes."

"It took you twenty to twenty five to get here, another ten on the drive back, and an extra five while we waited. She's down here, has been anytime between five and forty minutes."

Abigail started opening a door and Sherlock followed suit. John came down along with Lestrade and a few officers, and they started searching. Half the freezers were empty, but as they neared the back, bodies were being found. Sherlock reached one of the second to last boxes in a row and tried to open the door, but he found it was locked with a padlock.

"She's here!" He shouted.

One officer called for bolt cutters and they were delivered within a minute. As soon as the locked was gone, Sherlock threw open the door and looked inside. Lying on the ground, back towards the door, was Etheldrea. Sherlock rushed towards her while unbuttoning and shrugging off his coat. He turned her towards him. She was unconscious, her lips were an unhealthy blue and her skin was ice cold, but she was breathing.

He lifted her up and wrapped his coat around her, and then picked her up and hurried out the door. John saw him and started up the latter and waited so that he could lift Etheldrea up. At the same time, he told so done to call for an ambulance.

As soon as she was in his arms, Sherlock was up and taking her back. Abigail and Lestrade followed after them.

"Is she alright?" Abigail asked quickly.

"She will be. Another hour and she would've been dead." Sherlock said.

The ambulance showed up and immediately set to work. Lestrade reluctantly stayed behind to watch over the work here. John said he would follow Sherlock, along with Abigail. John walked her outside and then sat her down on the ground. He sat next to her and watched as officers walked by, forensics teams arrived, and people stopped to watch everything.

"Aren't we going to the hospital?" She asked.

"In a moment. Let's take a minute to breath though."

"She's going to fine, right?"

"Yep. In fact, she should be able to leave by nighttime. It's just a matter of getting her body temperature back to normal."

"Good."

"What you did today, that was very brave."

She shook her head, "I should have stayed with her."

"Not at all. You did the right thing coming for us."

"But he might not have noticed me. If I had stayed hidden, I could have helped her."

"You did help. You saved her life."

"Nearly too late."

"Let's count nearly as a victory."

"Can we go to the hospital now?"

"Yeah. Call your parents and let them know."

"I can't. My phone died before we got here, and then I accidently broke Etheldrea's. The case is somewhere in there, and I think the battery went under a box."

John pulled out his, "Here, use mine."

He stood and then helped her up, and then they went to hail a cab.

* * *

About forty minutes after falling under in the freezer, Etheldrea was finally waking up. The lights were bright at first, but she got used to it after a moment. She turned her head to see Sherlock sat by her bedside reading a magazine.

"Woman's Digest?" she mumbled, her speech a bit slow, "Really?"

"They don't have My Weekly. I keep telling you and John, all of life can be found in the personal columns."

She chuckled, "Sure. So, how long?"

"Not very, not enough to be lose to death."

"Well, that's good. And Abigail?"

"Cafeteria about fifteen minutes ago. John's with them I think."

She nodded, "Ok. Any idea when I can leave?"

"Anytime you want, though it would be against doctor's word."

"Let's wait until Abby and John come back."

"By the way, John doesn't think you should chase pickpockets without us anymore."

She rolled her eyes, "Not everyone is a murderer."

"That's what I said."

She tried sitting up, but hissed when her left hand felt like it had been shocked.

"You sprained your wrist. Minor, should heal in a couple of days." Sherlock mumbled, looking back at his magazine.

"Great. Just great."

"You can't complain, you did it to yourself."

"Well excuse me for having a man twice my size throw me in a freezer. What happened to him anyway?"

"Caught. Didn't expect anyone to be coming so he stuck around for a while. How kind of him." Sherlock didn't look at her, but his grip on the paper tightened.

"I'm fine, chill out."

"Etheldrea."

"It's all cool."

"No. Stop."

"No need to be so frosty."

"You're hanging out with Abby too much."

"Ice-see what you're saying. I'm not stopping until you laugh."

He glared at her, "Terribly sorry I don't find the situation all that funny. I have reason to believe this was part of a set up. You should know, there's someone else connected to the murderer. He said so himself."

"Who?"

* * *

Mycroft Holmes was waiting patiently in his office, unaware of the events transpiring in his family. His security had alerted him twenty minutes ago that he would be receiving a visit soon and he knew exactly who it was. Already, he had a guard waiting in the corner of the room. The man meeting him entered the room, a devilish smile on his face and brown-black eyes bouncing around.

"Jim Moriarty." Mycroft greeted sardonically.

"Mr. Holmes, a pleasure to meet you. Forgive me for being late; I took a little stop to Baker Street."

"Why are you here?"

"I just want to ask your opinion."

"About?"

"Your security. What do you think of them?"

"They're sufficient at best."

"I see. I see why. Your niece, she has a lot of security on her. They can be taken care of quickly though. You just need either bribery or below negative fifty degrees."

Mycroft stood up and said to the guard, "Seize him."

* * *

**I forgot to mention, I don't own Sherlock. Only Etheldrea and Abigail, and all the OC's. Reminder that I have a tumblr blog. Link on profile.**


	3. The Hounds of Baskerville Part 1

**Alright, we're entering May, and my school year is going to start getting hectic. It's my Seinor year, so they've got us starting college preparation and also usual senior events. How I feel right now is maybe another chapter or two in the next few days but after that, I'm not sure what my schedule will do. Remind I have a tumblr link on my profile and you can come ask questions.**

Monday the next week, Etheldrea's wrist was fully healed, and Abigail had stopped feeling guilty about the ordeal. Cases came and finished each day, and school was starting to pile on work, prepping for the end of the year already. If she could make it two more weeks, she'd be on Easter break. Etheldrea was very much looking forward to a break after spending nearly a full week out of Baker Street doing case work, school, or hanging out with Abigail.

Etheldrea was currently sleeping, a past time she enjoyed unlike her father. However, this morning he would not be so kind. She woke up with him entering her room, brandishing a harpoon and telling her to get ready for the day. She grumbled and turned over onto her stomach to look at her clock.

"Dad, why the hell are we getting up at five in the bloody morning? I go to school in another three hours. Why do you have a harpoon?"

"Get dressed and you'll see. Don't wear anything you don't want messy." Sherlock replied as he left the room.

Etheldrea groaned as she flopped her head on her pillow. A moment later, she got out of bed and dressed. She passed the stairs as she left and heard John still snoring. She groaned again and walked to the kitchen where a banana was flung at her. She didn't catch it and it fell to the floor after hitting her in the leg. Sherlock stood with his back to her at the counter, writing something down in front of him after having apparently grabbed the fruit and tossed it as she entered the room.

She looked at Sherlock as if he had lost his mind, "John's not even up, you're flinging fruit at me, and there's a harpoon. This is weirder than usual. What's going on?"

"A murder. Lestrade called me around four. Eat."

She yawned and picked up the banana and started to peel it, "Did you even sleep last night?"

"No, did you?"

"Of course I did. I like sleep. In my room, under my covers in my nice warm bed. Where I should be now. Not all of us run on batteries like you do."

"You might as well."

"I take longer to recharge."

"Not as much, you're making fine comebacks, now eat and let's go."

She took a bite and followed him as he went down the stairs.

"What about John?" she asked.

"He's not coming. Just you and me for the morning."

That perked Etheldrea up a bit. As much as she enjoyed John's company, she did miss the days when it had been her and her dad. There was no doubt she'd prefer to have him around of course, but she was more than slightly human, and goddammit she wanted time with her dad.

Outside, her dad opened the door of a cab for her and she climbed in. Ways away, they stopped outside a butchers, specifically Roger's Place. It was an old shop, and owned by a rather sweet man in Etheldrea's opinion. However, he was not a fan of her father.

"Why are we here?" she asked as they stood outside.

"I need a pig, average sized and access to the back room."

"Then why am I- of course." Her mood deflated just a bit.

"He likes you. Tell him I'll pay."

Etheldrea rolled her eyes and mumbled about five in the morning under her breath, and then went inside. A little bell rang as she entered, and a moment later a buff man walked towards the counter. He smiled when he saw her and gestured his arms around, flinging some drop of hopefully animal blood around.

"Etheldrea!" he exclaimed, "What can I do for you?"

"I need a favor. I need a pig, average size but can be smaller."

"Sure, anything else?"

"Can I take it to the back room?"

"Sorry?"

"Well, you see, my dad-"

"Sherlock Holmes is he here?" he looked around. "He's not allowed near anymore of my meat, not if he's going to use it to prove some murder victims death. The police suspected me for weeks! Do you know how hard it was for me to gain back my reputation?"

"He's outside; he said he would pay for everything." She assured.

"And if I say no?"

* * *

"You could have just told me to find somewhere else." Sherlock grumbled as he wrote out a rather expensive check.

"Oh come on, you owe him and you know it." Etheldrea said.

Sherlock gave the check over to Rodger, and then quickly hurried to start stabbing the pig. Etheldrea followed him and took a seat on a clean counter, out of the way from the spray zone. There was no way she was going to let herself be covered in pig's blood.

For nearly an hour, Sherlock speared away at the pig body and soon covered part of the room ceiling to floor. The smell was terrible, and Etheldrea's head was starting to get dizzy. It was a relief when her dad's phone vibrated next to her. It was a text from Lestrade.

**Case solved. Cairns confessed.**

She put the phone down and called over Sherlock. He stopped his maniac like harpooning for a moment and listen to the news. He looked disappointed, and also like a bloody mess. Pig's blood covered him head to toe, streaking his hair and face, and staining his shirt. Etheldrea shook her head and stood up.

"I cannot believe this. You wake me up at_ five_ in the bloody morning; take me to get you a _pig_, and then _boom_, murderer confesses. Thank _so much_ for this _wonderful_ experience." She said sarcastically.

"I'm just as disappointed as you are."

He started to walk towards the front doors.

"Wait, don't you want to clean up first?" She asked.

"Why? I don't have a change of clothes, and then those would still stain."

"Yeah, but people are going to call the police."

"We'll get a cab right away then."

Getting a cab was not as easy as he thought it would be. After several taxi's slowing, seeing him, and then driving faster, Etheldrea told him to get back and she would hail one. However, when she did, the driver informed her Sherlock wasn't allowed. So, like any good daughter, she told him to take the tube, and then got in the taxi.

When she arrived back at Baker Street, John was up and making breakfast, and she filled him in on what happened, leaving out that she left him outside he butchers. Another half hour later, Sherlock walked into the flat, still covered in blood and brandishing the harpoon. Etheldrea, on the sofa, barely gave him a glance while John stared nearly horror struck.

"Well that was tedious." Sherlock grumbled.

"You went on the tube like that?" John asked.

"None of the cabs would take me." He replied resentfully.

He walked towards his bedroom, hopefully going to go wash off. John looked over to Etheldrea.

"I thought you said he _choose _to go on the tube."

"I'm not the most reliable database John. I forget things, twist them around, and besides he woke me up at five in the morning."

He smirked, "That's my girl."

* * *

Shortly after his shower and change, Sherlock was rampaging around the room with the harpoon. His blue dressing gown swished after him, barely having a moment of rest as he paced in desperate need of a case.

"Nothing?" Sherlock asked as John looked over a newspaper.

"Military coup in Uganda." John said, with a smile, "Another photo of you with the . . ."

Sherlock saw the photo of him in the dreaded deerstalker and groaned.

"Oh, um, Cabinet re-shuffle."

"He's not Mycroft," Etheldrea said, "He doesn't care."

Sherlock was impatient, Nothing of importance! OH GOD! John, I need some. Get me some!"

"No." he replied after a sarcastic pause.

Etheldrea glared at him, "You know what Uncle Mycroft will do, and I'm not looking forward to spending the next eight months and three days with him. I will kill myself before that happens."

About two weeks ago, Etheldrea had found a stash of cigarettes in a slipper her father had. She told John, and they both confronted Sherlock, leading to a search of the entire flat and then also around town to the dealers. It was pure luck Mycroft hadn't found out, but incredibly unlucky that Sherlock's behavior was off the charts.

"Get me some!" Sherlock demanded.

"No!" John argued, raising a scolding finger, "Cold turkey. We agreed. No matter what. Anyway, you've paid everyone off, remember? No one within a two mile radius will sell you any."

"Stupid idea. Whose idea was that?"

Etheldrea still glared and John cleared his throat, reminding Sherlock it was his own idea.

"Mrs. Hudson!" he called before throwing a pile of papers to the floor and then destroying the rest of the area.

"Look, Sherlock, you're doing really well. Don't give up now."

"Tell me where they are. Please. Tell me." He looked up with forlorn at Etheldrea, "Please."

"Can't help, sorry." She replied.

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers." After John chuckled he said, "Oh it was worth a try."

He made a mad dash towards the fireplace and grabbed the slipper he had hidden cigarettes in. He thought it worth the second check and still found it empty, and then tossed it aside and searched the rest of the fireplace.

"Yoo-hoo." Mrs. Hudson.

"My secret supply. What have you done with my secret supply?"

"Hey?"

"Cigarettes. What have you done with them? Where are they?"

"You know you never let me touch your things. Chance would be a fine thing."

"I thought you _weren't_ my housekeeper?"

"I'm not."

Sherlock groaned and stood up, stalking back towards the harpoon, missing John signal Mrs. Hudson for tea.

"How about a nice cuppa? And perhaps you could put away your harpoon."

"I need something stronger than tea. Perhaps seven percent stronger."

He swung the harpoon up and pointed it at Mrs. Hudson making her gasp. Etheldrea rolled her eyes and stood up, ready to take it away from him.

"You've been to see Mr. Chatterjee again."

"Pardon?"

"Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour in the sleeve. You wouldn't dress like that for baking."

"Sherlock." Both John and Etheldrea warned.

"Thumbnail, tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch-cards again. We all know where that leads don't we?"

Etheldrea leaned forward and tried to grab the harpoon but he sniffed the air and swung it out of her way.

"Hmm, Casbah Nights. Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree? Even Etheldrea doesn't wear perfume like that when she goes to stare inside that café every Saturday. I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It's on the website. You should look it up!"

"I don't go every Saturday!" Etheldrea shouted, "Once a month!"

"I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee." he said talking to Mrs. Hudson, "He's got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about."

"Sherlock!" John shouted.

"Well, nobody except me."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I really don't!" she turned and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Etheldrea groaned and took the harpoon away, stashing it behind the desk chair. Sherlock jumped into his seat.

"What the bloody hell was all that about?" John asked, slamming the newspaper in his armrest.

Sherlock sighed, "You don't understand."

"Go after her and apologize."

Sherlock looked up from his fetal position, "Apologize?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Oh John, I envy you so much."

"You envy me?"

"Your mind. It's so placid, straightforward, barely used. Mine's like an engine racing out of control. A rocket tearing itself to pieces, trapped on the launch pad. I need a case!"

He threw his hands up, "You just solved one! By harpooning a dead pig, apparently."

"Ah! That was this morning! When's the next one? Etheldrea, how do you stand it?"

She shrugged, "My mind quiets when you're in the room."

"Nothing on the website?" John asked.

Sherlock stood up and grabbed his laptop which he then passed to John. He walked to the window and recited the only case on his page.

"'Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please, please, please, can you help?'"

"Bluebell?"

"A rabbit, John! Ah but there's more! Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous." He said in a childlike voice, "'Like a fairy!' according to little Kirsty. Then the next morning, Bluebell was gone! Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry."

He paused like he had an epiphany, "What am I saying? This is brilliant. Phone Lestrade, tell him there's an escaped rabbit."

"You're serious?"

"It's this or Cluedo."

"Ah, no." John replied as he stood and went to put the laptop back "We are never playing that again."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that's why."

"It was the only possible solution."

"It's not in the rules."

"Well, then the rules are wrong!"

At that moment, the doorbell rang, and Etheldrea groaned.

"Single ring." John said.

"Maximum pressure, just under the half-second."

"Client!" They all said at the same time.

Etheldrea had been about to grab her bag and go meet up with Abigail for school, but instead she grabbed her phone, sent a message to her, and then tossed it to Sherlock.

"Call my school, call me in."

"Why?"

"There is no chance in hell that I'm going to leave you in this state with John and a client."

Etheldrea walked downstairs and welcomed the client in. He was a nervous man and was shaking slightly. She led him upstairs just in time to hear her dad end his call with "No wonder your husband's having an affair."

"Thanks dad." She said sarcastically, "Detention tomorrow? Never had a better day."

"The last time you had detention was three years ago. I hardly think she'll blame it on you. Not unless you're the one her husband's sleeping with."

"God no. Gross."

John had the client sit down in his chair, and he took the one at the desk. Sherlock sat in his chair, and Etheldrea took a seat on the sofa.

"My name is Henry Knight." The client said, "I, uh, well, you see- um. I have a video."

He pulled out a DVD from his jacket which Sherlock took and put into the player. It showed rolling hillsides and rock formations, and also what looked like a laboratory site.

The woman on the screen said, _"Dartmoor. It's always been a place of myth and legend. But is there something else lurking out here? Something very real. Because Dartmoor is also home to one of the government's most secretive operations, the Chemical and Biological Weapons Research Centre, which is said to be even more sensitive than Porton Down. Since the end of the Second World War, there have been persistent stories about the Baskerville experiments. Genetic mutations. Animals grown for the battlefield. There are many who believe that with in this compound in the heart of the ancient wilderness, there are horror beyond imagining. But the real question is, are all of them still inside?"_

The scene cut to Henry, _"I was just a kid. It was on the moor, it was dark, but I know what I saw. I know what killed my father."_


	4. The Hounds of Baskerville Part 2

Sherlock shut the TV off and turned to Henry, "What did you see?"

"Oh, I . . . I was just about to say." He replied pointing at the screen.

"Yes, in a TV interview. I prefer to do my own editing."

"Yes. Of course." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a napkin to blow his nose.

"In your own time." John said.

"But quite quickly." Sherlock added.

Etheldrea rolled her eyes, stood up and walked over to the desk. She grabbed the other chair and pulled it up right beside him. She gave an innocent smile when he stared and looked toward Henry. It took him a bit to speak again, and when he did he was quiet. She knew exactly what would be happening soon.

"Do you know Dartmoor, Mr. Holmes?"

"No."

"It's an amazing place. It's like nowhere else, it's sort of bleak but beautiful."

"Hmm. Not interested, moving on."

Etheldrea shot him a look, but he ignored her, and Henry continued on.

"We used to go for walks after my Mum died, my Dad and me. Every evening we'd go out onto the moor."

"Yes, good, skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed. Where did that happen?"

"Dad." Etheldrea gave a warning.

Henry said, "There's a place, it's sort of a local landmark called Dewer's Hollow."

He looked to them if they knew it and Sherlock shrugged his shoulders.

"That's an ancient name for the Devil." Henry explained.

"So?" Sherlock shrugged again.

John asked, "Did you see the devil that night?"

He nodded, "Yes. It was huge. Cold black fur with red eyes. It got him, tore at him. Tore him apart. I can't remember anything else. They found me the next morning just wandering on the moor. My dad's body was never found.

John looked to both of the Holmes, "Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous dog? Wolf?"

"Or a genetic experiment." Sherlock added, giving a small smile to Etheldrea who rolled her eyes.

Henry didn't look amused, "Are you laughing at me, Mr. Holmes?"

"Why, are you joking?"

"My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville; about the type of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously."

"And, I assume, did wonders for Devon tourism."

John leaned forward and took control of the situation. Sherlock rolled his eyes when he saw.

"Henry, whatever did happen to your father, it was twenty years ago. Why come to us now?" John asked.

Henry glared at Sherlock, "I'm not sure you can help me, Mr. Holmes, since you find it all so funny."

He stood up and started to walk towards the door, but he stopped when Sherlock spoke.

"Because of what happened last night."

"Why, what happened last night?" John asked.

"How ... how do you know?" Henry asked.

"I didn't know; I noticed." Sherlock replied, and John looked unamused.

In a rapid fire, Sherlock began his deductions, "You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr. Knight, and do please smoke. I'd be delighted."

"No." Etheldrea said to him sternly, "Don't you dare get any ideas."

Henry stared and then when to sit back down, "How on earth did you notice all that?"

"It's not important-" John started to say but Sherlock interrupted him.

"Punched-out holes where your ticket's been checked."

"Not now, Sherlock."

"Oh, please. I've been cooped up in here for ages."

"It's been two hour's." Etheldrea said.

John added, "You're just showing off."

"Of course. I am a show-off. That's what _we do_." Sherlock replied, and then turned back to Henry, "The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee: the strength of the stain shows that you didn't take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast – or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich."

Henry cracked a bit, "How did you know it was disappointing?"

"Is there any other type of breakfast on a train? The girl, female handwriting's quite distinctive. Wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later, after she got off I imagine, you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You've been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you're not that into her after all. Then there's the nicotine stains on your fingers, your shaking fingers. I know the signs. No chance to smoke one on the train; no time to roll one before you got a cab here. It's just after nine fifteen. You're desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong?"

Henry said awestruck, "No. You're right. You're completely, exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were quick."

"It's my job. Now shut up and smoke."

"Henry, go ahead." Etheldrea said sweetly, and then turned venomous with Sherlock, "Don't you dare thing about it. Do you want me living with Uncle Mycroft? Because I sure as hell don't."

John frowned and Etheldrea prepared to go as far as sit on top of Sherlock. Never before in her life had he been this desperate for a smoke. He had been doing so well, but then Uncle Mycroft just had to give him one during Christmas. He had been screwed up ever since.

John said, trying to ignore them both, "Um, Henry, your parents both died and you were, what, seven years old?"

Henry started to say, "I know. That . . . my-"

He had lit a cigarette and after he blew his first lung full, Sherlock attempted to get up and sniff the air. Etheldrea, however, grabbed the back of his white shirt and applied a death grip to it, nearly choking him.

John said, "That must be a ... quite a trauma. Have you ever thought that maybe you invented this story, this-"

With another lungful leaving his mouth, Sherlock again tried to lean forward and inhale, but Etheldrea stood in front of him and pushed him back. He glared at her the entire time.

"- to account for it?" John finished.

"That's what Doctor Mortimer says."

"Who?"

"His therapist." The other three in the room replied at the same time.

"Obviously." Sherlock said with a fake smile.

Henry explained, "Louise Mortimer. She's the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons."

"And what happened when you went back to Dewer's Hollow last night, Henry? You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you're consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything?"

"It's a strange place, the Hollow. Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Yes, if I wanted poetry, I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends. Much funnier. What did you see?"

"Footprints, on the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart."

Exasperated, Sherlock leaned back in his seat. Etheldrea sat back down too, feeling just a bit disappointed in this. Of course there's going to be footprints, anything could go exploring.

John asked, "Man's or a woman's?"

"Neither. They were-"

Sherlock interrupted, "Is that it? Nothing else. Footprints. Is that all?"

"Yes, but they were-"

"No, sorry, Doctor Mortimer wins. Childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring! Goodbye, Mr. Knight. Please, come smoke again when _she's _not here." He said, pointing to Etheldrea.

"No, but what about the footprints?"

"Oh, they're probably paw prints; could be anything, therefore nothing." He gestured toward the door, "Off to Devon with you; have a cream tea on me."

Sherlock stood up and went to the kitchen, heading for his phone, "Etheldrea, I'll call you in late. Would do you good to get out of the flat."

Henry turned towards Sherlock and said, "Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"

Sherlock stopped moving and then turned back, "Say that again."

"I found the footprints; they were-"

"No, no, no, your exact words. Repeat your exact words from a moment ago, exactly as you said them."

"Mr. Holmes . . . they were the footprints of a gigantic . . . hound."

He almost smiled, "I'll take the case."

"Sorry, what?" John asked.

Sherlock started to pace the room, "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It's very promising."

Etheldrea narrowed her eyes some and watched her father closely. John was very confused.

"No-no-no, sorry, what? A minute ago, footprints were boring; now they're very promising?"

"It's nothing to do with footprints. As ever, John, you weren't listening. Baskerville: ever heard of it? Etheldrea?"

"Vaguely. It's very hush-hush." John said.

Etheldrea said, "It might have been mentioned once during Bio."

"Sounds like a good place to start."

"Ah! You'll come down, then?" Henry asked.

"No, I can't leave London at the moment. Far too busy. Don't worry; I'm putting my best man and woman onto it. He walked over to John and patted his shoulder while smiling at Etheldrea, "Always rely on John to send me the relevant data, as he never understands a word of it himself. Etheldrea helps him along."

John said, "What are you talking about, you're busy? You don't have a case! A minute ago you were complaining-"

"Bluebell, John! I've got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing, glow in the dark rabbit! NATO's in uproar."

Henry was confused too, "Oh, sorry, no, you're not coming, then?"

Faking regret, Sherlock shook his head with a puppy dog expression.

"Oh. Okay." John said when he realized what Sherlock wanted.

Etheldrea smirked, "Too bad, I threw them all out."

John looked a bit guilty and she frowned, "John?"

"There might be one pack around."

"_What?"_

"There wasn't enough time; he was coming up so I had to be quick. I swear, I was going to throw them out as soon as he left the room."

John stood up and walked over to the fireplace and lifted the skull off the mantle place. He took out a pack of cigarettes and tossed them to Sherlock. Then almost immediately, Sherlock tossed them to Etheldrea.

"I don't need those any more. I'm going to Dartmoor." Sherlock replied while Etheldrea looked relieved, "You go on ahead, Henry. We'll follow later."

Henry stood up, "Sorry, so you are coming?"

"Twenty year old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

Sherlock walked out of the room, and Henry looked relieved and a bit unsettled.

"Is he always like that?" he asked.

Etheldrea sighed and nodded, "Usually, although the smoking desperation is relatively new. I'm going to kill him, I swear."

John laughed, "Sometimes I wonder who takes care of who."

"A burden I have to bear." She muttered sarcastically.

They said goodbye to Henry, and then Etheldrea went to the bathroom and flushed the pack down the toilet. Then she went to pack for the trip. She grabbed enough clothes for a few days, and then several books and some other essentials. She walked back into the living room just as Sherlock did, on his phone.

"Holmes, Etheldrea, yes. . . . Uh, chicken pox. . . . I just said that, yes. . . . Of course not, look, I'm her father; I can take her out of school if I want. She's sick and a liability to other children. Shouldn't you be worried about that or something? . . . Year eleven. . . Goodbye."

Etheldrea looked at her father like he was crazy, "Chicken pox? You really expected them to think I have chicken pox?"

"Oh shut up, it worked."

"You do know it says on my records I have my shots, right?"

"Strong case."

"Do you even hear about chicken pox anymore? I think it's just about died out."

"They accepted it anyways."

"Why didn't you just say you were taking me on vacation?"

"Because the last time I did that, you complained about your teachers complaining."

She shook her head, and sat down on the sofa, pulling out a book and waiting for them to leave. A little while later, Sherlock grabbed his bags and hers, went to call a cab, and she followed him outside. John would be down in a moment, and while they waited, there was entertainment going on in the shop.

Muffled through the glass door, Etheldrea saw Mrs. Hudson yelling and raving at who she presumed to be Mr. Chatterjee. The man was back up in a corner, and Mrs. Hudson was angrier than when Sherlock had broken a vase she received form her sister and blamed it on Etheldrea.

"_I cannot believe this! You rotten old coot! We were supposed to go-"_

John walked out of the door carrying his bags and then looked into the shop as he heard Mrs. Hudson shouting. He joined the Holmes' by the cab as they watched.

"_-cruise together!"_ Mrs. Hudson yelled, _"You had no intention of taking me on it!"_

John recoiled as she threw a bag of flour at the shop door.

He said, "Oh! Looks like Mrs. Hudson finally got to the wife in Doncaster."

Sherlock said, "Mmm. Wait 'til she finds out about the one in Islamabad."

John sniggered and got into the cab, setting his bags with Sherlock's and Etheldrea's. Etheldrea got in next, followed by Sherlock.

"Paddington Station, please." Sherlock said to the driver.

It was a short drive to the station, and then they were boarding, and got to their seats. About an hour into the train ride, John went to the bathroom, leaving the other two alone. Etheldrea was reading when Sherlock ripped a piece of a napkin and stuck it on the page. She glared up at him, hating having been interrupted.

"You do know I'd never let your Uncle take you away, right? Especially now that you're only eight months away from turning eighteen."

She sighed, closed the book and leaned back, "I know, but the threat's still there."

"It's not going to happen. Besides, I could go for something worse than cigarettes. That's what he should worry about."

She shook her head, "Don't you dare mention it. Anyway, about the case, what do you think killed his father. I mean, he did say it tore him to pieces, and unless there are any blood thirsty lions around, I don't think there'd be anything that bad there."

"We'll have to wait and see. Maybe check out the moor later tonight."

"Before dinner, right?"

He shook his head, "No, afterwards."

She inhale deeply and let it out, and then went back to her book, "Okay."

"Will you be alright?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"You won't have to come with."

"I _said_ I'll be fine." She said through gritted teeth.

"I thought you had outgrown-"

John was coming back and she hissed at him to shut up. She went back to her book and John looked between them.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

Not looking up, Etheldrea replied, "Never been better."

* * *

**Casual reminder that I now have a tumblr blog. Link on my profile. I've been making things, but you guys should request things you want me to make. I'll do my best. So yeah.**


	5. The Hounds of Baskerville Part 3

**I think you'll find it entertaining to know I kept mixing up tourism with terrorism and tourist with terrorist. Carry on.**

When they arrived in Exeter, they quickly located a rental car facility and it surprised John to know that Sherlock could drive. Or, at least that he had a valid driver's license. He was entirely thankful that halfway to Grimpen Village there were no other cars on the road. Sherlock was a truly lousy driver, and even Etheldrea seemed a bit disturbed by the trip, keeping her hand on the interior handle.

They made a stop on the way. Sherlock drove them to a spot where they could see the entire area. He climbed on top of some rocks and looked over everything while John pulled out a map and Etheldrea took pictures. She thought the area was absolutely beautiful and texted pictures to Abigail.

"There's Baskerville." John pointed over to the factory like buildings, and then behind him, "Uh, that's Grimpen village. So that must be . . . Yes, Dewer's Hollow."

"What's that?" Sherlock asked, pointing to the fended area.

"Umm, A minefield? Technically, Baskerville's an army base, so I guess they've always been keen to keep people out."

"Clearly." He muttered.

"Hey dad," Etheldrea called, "Think we could go dig one up?"

"I don't see why not."

John shook his head, "No, absolutely not."

"Why?" Etheldrea asked.

"You don't need a bloody landmine."

"Come on, how many teenagers can say they have a landmine John, how many?"

"Not a single one, and never will one."

She rolled her eyes, "Fine, didn't want one anyway."

She put her phone in her jacket and then went to climb up on the rocks with Sherlock. She sat down, swinging her legs back and forth as she looked over the fields. She looked up at her father as he stood, tall and with his coat billowing in the slight breeze.

He looked like Batman.

He looked down at her, and said quietly, "Stick near me or John tonight."

"Obviously." She scoffed, "It's not like I plan to go prancing through a dark forest in search of an apparent demonic dog by myself."

"Hound. Say hound. It's important."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure yet."

* * *

As they drive up to the Cross Key's Inn, Etheldrea saw a man, just a bit older than her, talking with a group of people who were obviously tourists. They parked and went to walk to the registration desk. The man, the guide was talking about the tours, and giving a cheesy warning. As they passed, Sherlock pulled up his cot collar and earned questioning glances from both John and Etheldrea.

"It's cold." He replied.

Etheldrea smirked, "Sure."

Sherlock walked around while John went to order rooms. Etheldrea followed him and stood by, looking around and grabbing a menu. A moment later, one of the owners, Gary, came back and handed John the keys.

"Eh, sorry we couldn't do a double room for you boys."

"That's fine. We're not-" John stopped when he saw that "knowing" smile on his face, ignored and passed the money, "There you go."

"Ta. I'll just get you're change."

"Ta."

John sighed and looked around the bar, stopping to stare at a receipt holder. He looked up and then quickly grabbed a slip before the owner came back and stuffed it in his pocket. Etheldrea put the menu down and went to stand close by him just as the owner came back.

"There you go." He said, placing the change in John's hand.

"Uncle John," she said a bit loud, "I couldn't help but noticing, on the map of the moor, a skull and crossbones? Do you know what they mean?"

"I saw that too, I'm not sure."

The owner raised his head, "Oh that."

"Pirates?" John asked.

"Eh, no, no. The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it."

"Oh, right."

"It's not what you think. It's the Baskerville testing site. It's been going for eighty odd years. I'm not sure anyone really knows what's there anymore."

"Explosives?" John asked, pressing for more information.

"Oh, not just explosives. Break into that place and if you're lucky you just get blown up, so they say. In case you were planning a nice wee stroll."

"Ta, we'll remember."

"Aye. No, it buggers up tourism a bit, so thank god for the demon hound. Did you see that show? The documentary?"

"Quite recently, yeah."

"God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell."

Etheldrea thinned her lips, and asked more sharply than she intended, "Have you ever seen it? The Hound?"

He didn't appear to notice, "Me? No, no. Fletcher has."

He pointed outside the door where Sherlock was, "He runs the walks, the monster walks, for the tourists, you know? He's seen it."

"That's handy. For trade." John said.

At that moment, the second owner came round and joined the conversation.

"I've just been saying, we've been rushed off our feet, Billy." Gary said.

He nodded, "Yeah, lots of monster hunters. Doesn't take much these days. One mention on twitter and woomph! We're out of WKD."

Gary left for a moment to grab a refill, and Billy stayed to continue giving information.

"What with the monster and the ruddy prisoner, I don't know how we sleep nights, do you, Gary?"

"Like a baby." He replied, coming back around.

"That's not true. He's a snorer. Is yours a snorer?"

Etheldrea laughed, "My Uncle John here is a snorer. My dad, he hardly ever sleeps."

Billy nodded, "Oh I see."

"Got any crisps?" John asked.

At that moment, Sherlock came up and pulled her aside. He passed her a cylinder.

"Put this on, and then go out and try to get as much information from the Fletcher as you can. See if he has evidence."

Etheldrea opened the cylinder and found someone's lipstick. She glared at Sherlock, unwilling to go through another one of these shows.

"I'm not having another Raz." She said.

"He lives here, you live in London. The time difference is far too much. Now, go!"

She rolled her eyes, but complied. First she grabbed a napkin and wiped up the used part of the lipstick before applying it.

"Please anticipate things like these." She said, "I'd rather not have to use some stranger's stolen lipstick."

Next she took her jacket off, passed it to him, and for good measure, lowered her shirt. She rolled her eyes again at the ridiculous situation. Then, she turned around, and walked out the door, putting on a coy smile. She acted nervous some, before walking up to Fletcher's table.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked.

He turned, did a double take, and looked her over from head to toe. She resisted grimacing, and sat when he gave a flirty smile and gestured a hand to the empty seat.

"It's not true, is it? You haven't actually seen this Hound thing?" she asked.

He narrowed his eyes a bit, "You with the papers?"

"No! Nothing like that. Just . . . curious about, you know, things. Have you seen it?"

He smiled flirty again, "Maybe."

"Got any proof?" she asked the same.

"What would I get in return?"

She shrugged, "Make an offer."

He leaned in close and then smirked, "I don't think so. You're what, sixteen, seventeen?"

She frowned, "Why would that matter?"

"Sorry sweetheart, but I saw you walk in with your dad. I try to keep away from those girls."

She sighed and then turned on her seat and called towards the Inn, "Sorry dad, bet's off."

"Bet?" Fletcher asked, standing up.

Sherlock and John walked out and came to sit down with Etheldrea. He passed her coat and sighed too.

"My plan needs darkness. We've got another half an hour of light." Sherlock said, looking at his watch.

"Sorry dad, guess you were right."

"Wait, what bet?" Fletcher asked.

"Oh, I bet my dad fifty quid that you could prove you'd seen the Hound. As usual, he didn't believe me. Thought maybe, just this once, I could beat him. But nope, there goes my allowance, _again_."

Fletcher smiled and chuckled at Sherlock, "Well, you're going to lose your money mate."

Sherlock asked, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I've seen it. Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind, couldn't make much out."

"I see. No witnesses, I suppose."

"No, but-"

"Never are."

"Wait." He showed a blurry photo to Sherlock, "There."

Sherlock laughed, "Is that it? It's not exactly proof, is it? Sorry, Ethel. I win.

"Wait, wait. That's not all. People don't like going up there, you know. To the Hollow. Gives them a . . . bad sort of feeling."

"Ooh! Is it haunted? Is that supposed to convince me?"

"Nah, don't be stupid, nothing like that, but I reckon there is something out there. Something from Baskerville, escaped."

"A clone, a super-dog?"

"Maybe. God knows what they've been spraying on us all these years, or putting in the water. I wouldn't trust them as far as I could spit."

Sherlock nodded towards the photo, "Is that the best you've got?"

He hesitated for just a moment, "I had a mate once who worked for the MOD. One weekend we were meant to go fishing' but he never showed up, well, not 'til late. When he did, he was white as a sheet. I can see him now. 'I've seen things today, Fletch,' he said, 'that I never wanna see again. Terrible things.' He'd been sent to some secret Army place. Porton Down, maybe, maybe Baskerville, or somewhere else. In the labs there, the really secret labs, he said he'd seen . . . terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he said, and dogs . . ."

He reached into his bag and pull out a stone molding of a giant dog's foot print, "Dogs the size of horses."

It had to be at least seven inches from claw to heel, and claws each an inch. All three looked at it in shock, and Etheldrea smirked.

"You did say fifty?" she asked.

Sherlock glared at her and pulled out a note from his coat and gave it to her. She took the money triumphantly. He stood up and stalked away, and John followed after.

"Thanks." Etheldrea said to Fletcher and then followed them too.

* * *

Baskerville, Sherlock had said she asked where they were going. One of the top most secret army bases in the country, maybe even the world, and they were heading right for it.

"Um, dad? How am _I_ going to get in?"

"Your with me." He replied, "They'll have to. Orders and all that."

The car stopped just outside the entrance gate and a guard came around and asked for a pass. Sherlock pulled one out and handed it to him. They had to wait a moment while it was checked out.

"We got ID for Baskerville? How?"

"It's not specific to this place. It's my brother's. Access all areas. I, um . . . acquired it ages ago, just in case."

Etheldrea shook her head, "Of course. The top security of an army base is going to let 'Mycroft Holmes' niece in."

"You'll be fine. Act natural."

"Brilliant." John said doubtfully, "We'll get caught."

"No, we won't. Well, not just yet." Sherlock said.

"Caught in five minutes. 'Oh hi! We just thought we'd come in and have a wander round your top secret weapons base.' 'Really? Great! Come in, kettle's just boiled.' That's if we don't get shot."

The guard came back a moment later and handed the card to Sherlock, "Here you are."

"Thank you very much."

As they drove in, John sighed, "Mycroft's name literally opens doors."

"I've told you. He practically is the British Government. I reckon we got about twenty minutes before they realize something's wrong. Fifteen, if Etheldrea doesn't play her part right."

Etheldrea asked in a flowery voice, "Uncle Mycroft, whatever do you mean?"

The car stopped, and after they got out they followed a uniformed man to building. There were lots of scientists and military men walking around, and not many glanced at them. At the entrance of the building, a Corporal stopped in front of them.

"What is it?" he asked, "Are we in trouble?"

"'Are we in trouble, _sir_?'" Sherlock said authoritatively.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"You were expecting us?"

"Your ID showed up straight away, Mr. Holmes. Corporal Lyons. Security. _Is_ there something wrong, sir?"

"Well I hope not, Corporal. I hope not."

"It's just we don't get inspected here, you see, sir. It just doesn't happen."

John said, "Never heard of a spot check? Captain John Watson. Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

Both men saluted each other, and then Lyons saw Etheldrea.

"My niece." Sherlock said quickly, "She'll be no trouble."

"Sir, Major Barrymore won't be pleased. He'll want to see you all."

John said, "I'm afraid we won't have time for that. We'll need the full tour. Right away. Carry on."

Lyons hesitated, gauging Etheldrea with exceptional care. John didn't hesitate at all.

"That's an order, Corporal."

He relented and nodded, "Yes, sir."

Lyons turned and went to the door to swipe his ID card. Sherlock followed suit, and once the doors opened, they were quickly following Corporal Lyons through the halls.

"Nice touch." Sherlock quietly said to John.

"Haven't pulled rank in ages."

"Enjoy it?"

"Oh, yeah."

At the end of a hall way, they got access into an elevator and traveled down to a basement floor. The room that they arrived at was pure white with few black titled accents. As they walked past, a monkey screeched at them. Etheldrea frowned and took a step back, the thing was maniac.

"How many animals do you keep down here?" Sherlock asked.

"Lots sir."

"Any ever escape?"

"They'd have to know how to use that lift sir. We're not breeding them that clever."

"Unless they have help?"

An older man in a white hazard like suit walked up to them.

"And you are?" he asked.

"I'm sorry Doctor Frankland," Corporal Lyons said, "I'm just showing these gentlemen, and lady, around."

"Ah, new faces. How nice. Careful you don't get stuck here, though. I only came to fix a tap."

He chuckled and left them.

John asked, "How far does that lift go?"

"Quite a way, sir."

"And what's down there?"

"Well we have to keep the bins somewhere, sir. This way please, gentlemen and ma'am."

Lyons led the, down to a door at the end of the room.

"So what is it exactly that you do here?" John asked and Etheldrea winced at the risky question.

"I thought you'd know, sir. This being an inspection."

John recovered it well, "I'm not an expert, am I?"

Lyons sighed, "Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir."

"But mostly weaponry?"

"Of one sort or another, yes."

"Biological, chemical . . ."

"One war end, another begins, sir. New enemies to fight. We have to be prepared."

The next room they entered held two scientists and s monkey that shrieked loudly as it stood up and then back down again.

The female scientist said, "Okay, Michael, let's try Harlow Three next time."

She started walking towards them.

Lyons greeted, "Doctor Stapleton."

"Stapleton." Sherlock murmured quietly.

"Yes? Who's this?"

"Priority Ultra, ma'am. Orders from on high. An inspection." Lyons replied.

"Really?"

Sherlock said, "We're to be accorded every courtesy, Doctor Stapleton. What's your role at Baskerville?"

Stapleton laughed disbelievingly.

John asked. "Er, accorded every courtesy, isn't that the idea?"

"I'm not free to say. Official secrets."

"Oh, you most certainly are free," Sherlock smiled and then turned ominous, "and I suggest you remain that way."

"I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. I like to mix things up – genes, mostly; now and again actual fingers."

Sherlock reached into his coat and pulled out a notebook and pen, "Stapleton. I knew I knew your name."

"I doubt it."

"People say there's no such thing as coincidence. What dull lives they must lead."

He had written something on the notebook, but Etheldrea couldn't see it. He held it up to Stapleton and she looked shocked for a moment.

"Have you been talking to my daughter?"

"Why did Bluebell have to die, Doctor Stapleton?"

And for Etheldrea the puzzle pieces fit.

John asked bewildered, "The rabbit?"

Sherlock ignored him, "Disappeared from inside a locked hutch, which was always suggestive. Clearly an inside job."

"Oh, you reckon?" Stapleton asked.

"Why? Because it glowed in the dark."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Who are you?"

Sherlock looked at his watch and turned to Lyons, "Well I think we've seen enough for now Corporal. Thank you so much."

"That's it?" he asked.

"That's it. It's this way, isn't it?"

Stapleton called after them, but Sherlock ignored her and kept walking. John and Etheldrea quickly followed.

John whispered quietly, "Did we just break into a military base to investigate a rabbit?"

Sherlock ignored him and they hurried to get to the exit. Sherlock received a text and laughed to himself.

"Twenty-three minutes. Mycroft's getting slow." He told john and Etheldrea.

They reached the lift and stopped for a moment when they saw Doctor Frankland.

He smiled at them, "Hello, again."

Etheldrea's phone beeped and she pulled it out.

**What is he doing? M**

She rolled her eyes and put it away. The lift's door opened at the next floor, and waiting right outside was a thin, bald man in a camouflage uniform like the other soldiers. Lyons shifted nervously,

"Er, um, Major-" he said.

Furiously, Barrymore said, "This is bloody outrageous. Why wasn't I told?"

John said as he walked out, "Major Barrymore is it? Yes, well, good. Very good. We're very impressed, aren't we, Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock replied, "Deeply; hugely."

He walked past him and Etheldrea and John stayed close behind. Barrymore looked even more upset when he saw her. The major followed directly behind them as they hurried.

"The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense, and don't get me started on the bloody teenager!"

"I'm so sorry, Major."

"Inspections?!"

"New policy. Can't remain unmonitored forever. Goodness knows what you'd get up to." He murmured to John and Etheldrea, "Keep walking."

Lyons had briefly gone to a security room and rushed back out to slam an alarm button. Alarms blared and red lights flashed, and everyone turned towards him.

"ID unauthorized, sir." Lyons said, and Etheldrea knew they would need a miracle.


	6. The Hounds of Baskerville Part 4

**Sorry for the late chapter. School is in its final month, and I graduate in about three weeks. Jesus, that's a scary though. I had a ton of projects that had to be finished all last weekend and then were due over the week. But now I believe my week should be good. But, don't expect a whole lot of updates until June, senior events are coming up, final projects are coming out, and exams are right around the corner. Anyway, here we go.**

* * *

The alarms were still going, and the lights still flashing. Any moment now they were going to be pulled into a room and shot.

Barrymore asked Lyons, "What?"

"I've just had the call."

"Is that right?" He turned to look at them, "Who are you?"

John said, "Look, there's obviously been some kind of mistake."

Barrymore held out his hand for Sherlock's ID which he handed over. Barrymore looked it over and the up at Sherlock.

"Clearly not Mycroft Holmes."

John pulled out a notebook and wrote in it, "Computer error, Major. It'll all have to go in the report."

"What the hell's going on?!"

Etheldrea had been watching Dr. Frankland silently who in turn was watching them. Slowly he had been walking towards them and was coming to interrupt.

"It's all right, Major. I know exactly who these gentlemen and lady are."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I'm getting a little slow on faces but Mr. Holmes here isn't someone I expected to show up in this place."

Sherlock started, "Ah, well-"

He offered a hand, "Good to see you again, Mycroft."

Sherlock shook his hand and smiled falsely. John and Etheldrea were both surprised at the savior.

"I had the honor of meeting Mr. Holmes at the W.H.O. conference in . . . Brussels, was it?"

Sherlock lied smoothly, "Vienna."

"Vienna, that's it." He turned back to Barrymore, "This is Mr. Mycroft Holmes, Major. There's obviously been a mistake."

Barrymore turned to Lyons and nodded his head. The Corporal went back to the security room and in a moment the lights and sirens turned off, and the exit door opened up.

Barrymore turned back to Frankland, "On your head be it, Dr. Frankland."

Frankland laughed while Lyons walked back, "I'll show them out, Corporal."

"Very well, sir."

Sherlock turned and left and the others quickly followed. Frankland walked with them while Barrymore looked on in anger. Etheldrea walked alongside Frank land.

Sherlock said, "Thank you."

"This is about Henry Knight, isn't it?"

No one said a word, but he took the silence as a yes.

Happily he said, "I thought so. I knew he wanted help but I didn't realize he was going to contact Sherlock Holmes! Don't worry; I know who you really are. I'm never off your website. Thought you'd be wearing the hat though."

Etheldrea smirked while Sherlock sighed, "That wasn't my hat."

"I hardly recognize him without the hat."

"It wasn't my hat."

"I love the blog too, Dr. Watson."

"Oh, cheers."

"The Pink thing, and that one about the Aluminum Crutch!" he turned to Etheldrea, "And you, I love reading about you. You're such a brave girl Miss Holmes. How do you do it?"

She smiled, "Defense classes, lots of them. I can get myself out of almost any situation."

"Really? Your teacher must have been a wonderful instructor."

She looked over to Sherlock, "Oh yes, definitely."

Sherlock asked quickly, and they stopped walking, "You know Henry Knight?"

"I knew his dad better. He had all sorts of mad theories about this place. Still, he was a good friend." He turned to see Barrymore watching them closely, and reached into his coat for a slip of paper. "Listen, I can't really talk now. Here's my cell number. If I can help, with Henry, give me a call."

"I never did ask, Dr. Frankland. What exactly is it that you do here?"

He sighed, "Mr. Holmes, I would love to tell you, but then of course I'd have to kill you."

He laughed although Sherlock replied very seriously, "That would be tremendously ambitious of you. Tell me about Dr. Stapleton."

"I never speak ill of a colleague."

"But you'd speak well of one, which you're clearly omitting to do."

"I do seem to be, don't I?"

Sherlock began to turn way, "I'll be in touch."

"Any time."

They walked away to the car and John asked, "So?"

"So?" Sherlock asked back.

"What was all that about, the rabbit?"

Sherlock turned up his coat collar, holding it tight to himself. Etheldrea chuckled and rolled her eyes, and John sighed, exasperated.

"Oh please." he said, "Can we not do this this time?"

"Do what?"

"You being all mysterious with your . . . cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you look cool."

"I don't do that."

"Yeah you do."

Etheldrea muttered as she climbed in the back seat, "Vampire."

For her amusement, after buckling up he turned to her and said, "Blud."

They left the Baskerville facility and started driving to meet Henry at his house. Etheldrea stared out the window, looking up at the sun in the sky. In just a few hours, the sun would set and they would be off in the dark woods searching for a supposed demon hound. She shivered involuntarily.

"So, the email from Kirsty, the missing luminous rabbit?" John asked after a while.

Sherlock replied, "Kirsty Stapleton, whose mother specializes in genetic manipulation."

"She made her daughter's rabbit glow in the dark?"

"Probably a fluorescent gene. Removed and spliced into the specimen, simple enough these days. The dumbest kid in Etheldrea's class could do it."

"No, he couldn't." Etheldrea said, "Richter Todd can't even _read_. Hey dad, can we get a dog and make it glow in the dark?"

"We're not getting a dog."

"Damn it. Well, at least we know about Stapleton now."

"So?" John asked.

Sherlock replied, "So we know that Doctor Stapleton performs secret genetic experiments on animals. The question is has she been working on something deadlier than a rabbit?"

"To be fair, that is quite a wide field."

* * *

Henry Knight's house was huge! As they pulled up, Etheldrea observed every part of the building that she could see. The main house built of brick, a walk way on the second floor with floor to ceiling glass windows, and even a greenhouse as an entrance.

They walked inside and to the door and Sherlock rain the doorbell. A moment later, Henry opened the door and let them in. The inside was just as beautiful and everyone room was elaborately decorated.

John stuttered some, "This is, uh, are you, um . . . rich?"

Henry nodded, "Yeah."

"Right."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and followed henry as he walked into the kitchen. Etheldrea took a seat next to Sherlock at the Kitchen Island while Henry made tea. As Sherlock poured sugar into his, and both Etheldrea and John opted out and took milk instead, henry talked about his latest therapy session.

"It's-it's a couple of words. It's what I keep seeing. 'Liberty'

John reached for his notebook, "Liberty."

"Liberty, and . . . 'in'. It's just that." He picked up the milk and looked between John and Etheldrea, "Are you finished?"

They both smiled and nodded, and Henry turned to put it away.

"Mean anything to you?" John asked Sherlock.

"'Liberty in death', isn't that the expression? The only true freedom."

John nodded and took a sip of his tea. Etheldrea contemplated what else it could mean, but there was nothing else she could think of. Henry turned back and sighed.

"What now, then?"

"Sherlock's got a plan."

He smiled, "Yes."

"Right." Henry said, waiting for an explanation.

"We take you back out onto the moor."

"Okay . . ."

"And see if anything attacks you."

"What?!" John and Etheldrea asked simultaneously.

"That should bring things to a head."

Henry asked nervously, "At night? You want me to go out there at night?"

"That's your plan?" he snorted in disbelief, "Brilliant!"

Etheldrea didn't say a word, but her posture was rigid straight, and she hid her hands which were curling into fists. In Sherlock looked at her now, only he would see that her breathing was slightly increased.

"Got any better ideas?" Sherlock asked.

"That's not a plan."

"If there is a monster out there, John, there's only one thing to do, find out where it lives."

* * *

As the sun began to set, the group rode to the moor. There they pulled out their torches and started walking. Etheldrea felt her heart race more and more as it got darker. If you asked her, she would say she didn't jump, but the fox screams in the distance were very unnerving to her. She stayed close to her dad as they ventured forth.

As soon as they entered the woods, both John and Etheldrea heard rustling form behind them, and quickly turned to investigate. Sherlock and Henry either didn't hear it or ignored it and kept walking. Etheldrea followed John, neither of them noticing the split up, and looked around. They shined their lights all around the area, but didn't find any animals. John however, did see a light flashing on a hill long ways away.

He turned and looked to Sherlock, only to find him gone. Etheldrea saw too, and began to panic slightly. She walked closer to John.

"We need to find them." She whispered.

"We will, just after I write that down." John promised, pulling out a notebook.

He wrote down what the lights seemed to be flashing in Morse Code. U – M – Q – R – A.

"Let's go." Etheldrea whispered hurriedly and started down the path.

"Alright, alright." John whispered back, "It'll be fine. Henry knows the way."

They walked, Etheldrea behind him, and after a while, still weren't caught up with them. Etheldrea tried breathing deep and even, but was having little success. The shadows around them were shifting and changing, and the trees seemed to swirl. Etheldrea was getting dizzy. Behind her, she heard another rustle only it sounded closer and venturing deeper in the woods.

She whipped around and whispered, "John, did you hear that?"

But he didn't hear it, or her, and kept on walking. Etheldrea didn't see him, and towards the source expecting him to be with her. She walked past a few trees, and turned around near bushes. She was sure the noise had come from here, but she didn't see anything.

She started to say, as she turned back, "False lead, I sup- John?"

She looked all around her, but she was alone.

"John?" she called out, loudly this time.

She didn't hear a reply back.

"Ok, ok." She muttered to herself, "Don't panic. Just go back the way you came."

She started walking, and she got back onto the main path. At least, she thought it was. The area looked no different than where she was two minutes ago. Henry was gone, Sherlock was gone, and now John was gone, and they were only getting farther. She wasn't panicking, there was no way she was going to panic, there was no reason to-

CRACK!

She looked behind her and saw nothing, to her sides there was nothing. The noise sounded like it came from everywhere.

CRACK!

She took off running in hopefully the right direction, and that's when the howling began. It echoed all around her, and she stopped running, frantically searching in all directions for the monster. She couldn't see anything though; the darkness was crawling towards her. The wind was picking up, and there was a faint metallic pattering sound mixed in with the noise. She had to get away, but everything was just so dark, and she was completely alone.

"Dad?" she called quietly, finding no strength in her voice, "Dad?"

She walked forward slowly. In her hands she gripped her torch tightly. A long time ago she had found it didn't do anything to ease her nerves. However it made a wonderful weapon, which Sherlock had unfortunately found out many times in the past.

She had only made it a few feet when she felt something grab her shoulder. She screamed, let out a string of curses, and started beating at whatever was behind her. It was a short and buff, and was shouting at her to stop.

"What are you doing?!" it yelled, "Stop! It's me, it's John!"

Immediately she back up and lowered the light, wincing as she saw John rubbing his head. When the pain died down, he looked her over and saw her shaking some.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"You're shaking."

"Well, you did scare me." She said, looking around still a bit scared.

"Right, remind to never come up behind you again. Did you hear the howling?"

"Yeah."

"No, alright, seriously, what's wrong? You're shaking like a leaf, you keep looking around like the trees are going to – to eat you and you're on the verge of hyperventilating. That's not just because I snuck up on you."

She shook her head, "_I'm fine_. Just . . . maybe just a bit scared of the dark."

"You? Scared of the dark? Since when?" he asked incredulously.

"Since always."

"But, I've never seen you-"

"Actually you have. Never this severe though."

"Oh, Etheldrea."

"No, don't pity me. Let's just go find dad and Henry, and get out of here."

They didn't even have to move because John saw flashlights shining behind them. The pair walked to meet them. Sherlock walked right past him, and even ignored Etheldrea. The others quickly followed after him.

"Did you hear that?" John asked.

"We saw it. We saw it." Henry said.

Sherlock dismissed him, "No. I didn't see anything."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I didn't. See. Anything."

Sherlock didn't say anything more, and Etheldrea ran to meet up with him. She looked him over, taking note that he seemed very agitated. They got out of the moor, and drove back to Grimpen Village. No one said anything. John walked Henry to his house, and Etheldrea followed her dad back to the inn.

In the room that she and Sherlock shared, Etheldrea sat down on her bed and started to calm down. Now that she was in a closed area with . . . less than exceptional lighting, she felt better. However, as she thought about what she had heard in the woods, the thought of some sort of monster being out there was weighing in her mind.

"Dad?" she asked as he took off his coat and scarf, "Do you think . . . do you think there's a dog out there? And that's what's terrorizing Henry? Could he just have a giant dog fear?"

Sherlock wasn't listening.

"Dad?"

"You got separated." He said after a minute, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah , fine. A bit on edge, like everyone else. No one seemed to be paying attention to each other, huh? Just on the search for that dog."

"Hound. It's a Hound." He said.

"Right. Anyway, do you think that's what's out there? It's just a dog?"

"_No_. It's a Hound."

"Whatever. While we were out there, I heard- wait, you don't actually believe Henry do you? That there's a demon monster out there?"

"I don't know, I don't- I saw . . . something. I don't know what it was."

Sherlock was staring out the window, looking across the parking lot, but in the direction of the moor. Etheldrea stood up and went to stand by him.

"It can't be real." She muttered, "Something like that wouldn't just scare people. It would attack."

"I'm not sure what real is, at the moment."

Etheldrea look up at him, and then looped her arms around his. She pulled him towards the doors.

"Come on, let's go wait for John and discuss it. I'm sure there's some coco."

"I need something stronger than hot chocolate."

"Well, lucky for you, I saw a variety of alcohol at the bar."


	7. The Hounds of Baskerville Part 5

Etheldrea waited by the fire while Sherlock grabbed drinks. He was back a moment later and handed her a mug with, she realized worriedly, shaking hands. They sat quietly, Etheldrea was waiting for her dad to say something. Unfortunately, he seemed lost in his thoughts and looked on the verge of a panic attack. Ne'er in her life had she seen him scared before, and she didn't know what she could do to help.

"Uh, I hit John." She said, trying to distract him, "Whacked him with my flashlight a few times. He scared me."

To her relief, the corner of his mouth twitched up.

"At least I'm taller now and didn't hit lower like I did with you." She said with a quiet laugh.

He replied quietly, "I need to think."

"Ok." She said softly.

It would still be a while before John showed up, and there wasn't much for her to do now. She was about to go grab one of the books she brought, but he felt her phone vibrating. She pulled it out and read off the caller ID Uncle Mycroft. Rolling her eyes, she pressed the talk but on and answered.

"Hello Uncle Mycroft. What is it? I must have done something terrible to deserve a call at this hour."

"_You're father's been ignoring me."_

"I would too."

"_Why were you at Baskerville?"_

"A case, plain and simple. I'm sure you keep up on dad's blog."

"_I'd gather more information about the cases you three are currently on if you had a blog of your own."_ Mycroft said carpingly.

"John's the blogger, who'd read what I have to say? They don't even read dads."

She rolled her eyes when Sherlock glared at her and told him, "I thought you were thinking."

"_Now, tell me exactly why you were in Baskerville."_

"Seriously, a case. Kristy Stapleton lost her rabbit, and we found it."

"_A rabbit? And since when has my brother ever cared about a child's rabbit?"_

"You should be proud, he's trying new things."

"_Etheldrea, I will find out."_

She replied sullenly, "Surprised you don't know already. Don't you always have someone watching my every move?"

"_How can I when you're where you are? No cameras. No stations cleared for access, and if someone follows you around, it'll alert more suspicion then I need."_

"I think I need to come here more often."

"_And causing more trouble than necessary? I think not."_

"Oh please, what's the worst that could happen?"

"_I shudder to think, which is why I'm sending down a friend tomorrow."_

"Fantastic. And I'm going to assume he's going to be spying on us all day?"

"_Actually, you should enjoy his company. You like him better than anyone else I've had look after you."_

"I've never liked anyone following me around. In fact, I hate them all."

"_Detective Inspector Lestrade will be so upset to hear that."_

"Wait, really?"

"_Yes really. He should be there in the morning."_

"Alright then. Fantastic." As she said this, John arrived and sat down on Sherlock's right, "I have to go. Bye."

"_Wait-"_

She ended the call, put her phone away, and scoot her chair closer so that they could talk quietly. Her dad, she noticed, was still shaking a bit, and glanced nervously around now and then.

John informed them about Henry, "Well, he is in a pretty bad way. He's manic, totally convinced there's some mutant super-dog roaming the moors."

He didn't even seem to notice Sherlock was in distress and continued on, "And there isn't, though, is there? 'Cause if people knew how to make a mutant super-dog, we'd know. They'd be for sale. I mean, that's how it works."

Etheldrea nodded, "And Uncle Mycroft would have known more about it, and he wouldn't have called me just a bit ago."

Sherlock didn't say anything, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. His hands were clasped in front of him, tightly, and he seemed like he was fighting off a panic attack or the urge to cry. Etheldrea watched him and frowned worriedly. John still didn't seem to notice.

He pulled out a notebook, "Listen, on the moor we saw someone signaling. Morse - I guess its Morse. Doesn't seem to make much sense. U, M, Q, R, A. Does that mean . . . anything . . ?

Sherlock had taken in a sharp breath, and finally John how distraught he was, but he ignored it, thinking he was wrong. He put his note book away and looked to Sherlock for answers.

"So, okay, what have we got? We know there's footprints, 'cause Henry found them; so did the tour guide. We all heard something. Maybe we should just look for whoever's got a big dog."

"Henry's right." Sherlock finally said.

"What?"

Sherlock's voice was shaky, "I saw it too."

"What?" Etheldrea asked in shock.

"I saw it too."

John sat forward, "Just, just a minute. You saw what?"

Sherlock looked up from the fire, glancing back and forth between John and Etheldrea. His face, he looked so upset and loathing of the words he was about to spit out through gritted teeth.

"A hound, out there in the Hollow. A gigantic hound."

John nearly laughed as he sat back, "Um, look, Sherlock, we have to be rational about this, okay? Now you, of all people, can't just - let's just stick to what we know, yes? Stick to the facts.

Sherlock looked at him and said the phrase Etheldrea heard most of her childhood, "Once you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains – however improbable –must be true."

"What does that mean?"

Sherlock reached and grabbed his drink, and Etheldrea saw his hands still shaking.

He laughed at himself a bit, "Look at me. I'm afraid, John. Afraid.

"Sherlock?"

He took a drink and glared at his still shaking hand.

"Always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from . . . feelings. But look, you see."

He held up the shaking glass, "My body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions. The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment."

He was looking angry now, and practically slammed the glass back on the table. Etheldrea reached out and grabbed his hand, but sharply he drew it away.

John attempted to calm him, "Yeah, all right, Spock, just . . . take it easy. You've been pretty wired lately, you know you have. I think you've just gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up."

"Worked. Up?"

"It was dark and scary –"

"Me?" Sherlock asked with a laugh, "There's nothing wrong with me. It's Etheldrea whose got worked up."

He looked to the fire again, raising his hands to his temples and groaning like he had a headache, which he probably did. Etheldrea raised her hand and hesitantly reached to place it on his arm. He was still shaking.

"Dad . . ." she started but didn't know how to finish,

"Sherlock –" John was interrupted by Sherlock shouting at them.

"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Etheldrea nearly fell backward from the force she jumped back. She had her hands raised, almost afraid that her dad would turn on her. He hardly ever yelled at her, using instead a stern disappointed voice that was usually more frightening.

Sherlock sighed deeply as he looked around at the other patrons staring at them, and then to Etheldrea and saw just a glimmer of fear in her eyes. He tried to get himself under control.

"You want me to prove it, yes? We're looking for a dog? Yes, a great big dog. That's your brilliant theory. Cherchez le chien. Good, excellent, yes, where shall we start?" he looked over his shoulder to a man and women at a table, his voice now angry and harsh as he started his deductions, "How about them? The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman. The answer's yes."

John asked, "Yes?"

"She's got a West Highland terrier called Whisky. Not exactly what we're looking for."

"Sherlock, for God's sake."

He was rambling it off in quick fire now, "Look at the jumper he's wearing. Hardly worn. Clearly he's uncomfortable in it. Maybe it's because of the material; more likely the hideous pattern, suggesting it's a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother's good books. Why? Almost certainly money. He's treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. That means he wants to impress her, but he's trying to economize on his own food."

"Well, maybe he's just not hungry."

"No, small plate. Starter. He's practically licked it clean. She's nearly finished her pavlova. If she'd treated him, he'd have had as much as he wanted. He's hungry all right, and not well off – you can tell that by the state of his cuffs and shoes. 'How do you know she's his mother?' Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well, it could be an aunt or an elder sister, but mother's more likely. Now, he was a fisherman. Scarring pattern on his hands, very distinctive – fish hooks. They're all quite old now, which suggests he's been unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world, so he's turned to his widowed mother for help. 'Widowed?' Yes, obviously. She's got a man's wedding ring on a chain round her neck – clearly her late husband's and too big for her finger. She's well-dressed but her jewelry's cheap. She could afford better, but she's kept it – it's sentimental. Now, the dog, tiny little hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little bit too friendly, but no hairs above the knees, suggesting it's a small dog, probably a terrier. In fact it is – a West Highland terrier called Whisky. 'How the hell do you know that, Sherlock?' Because she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name and that's not cheating, that's listening, I use my senses, John, unlike some people, so you see, I am fine, in fact I've never been better, so just Leave. Me. Alone."

He ended his ramble and glared fiercely at him as John stared in shock. Etheldrea truly didn't know what to say, didn't know if she could say anything to make this better.

John sighed, and shook his head, "Yeah. Okay. Okay. And why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend."

Like it was sour, Sherlock bit out, "I don't have _friends_."

John agreed softly, "No. Wonder why?"

He stood up and walked away. Etheldrea watched him, calling his name, but he ignored her. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Then she clasped both hands and leaned forward. When she spoke, he never looked at her just at the fire.

"Dad, are you really going to let him go of like that?"

"I don't see why not?"

"What you said, it could be taken incorrectly."

"It's only the truth."

"Regardless, you should apologize. Explain what you mean at least."

He snapped at her, "You're turning into John. Absolutely idiotic."

Etheldrea sat up straight, pushed her tongue against her teeth, and then stood up. Sherlock saw out of the corner of his eye, and reached out to grab her hand.

"Where are you going?"

"A walk. You need some time alone."

"Etheldrea –"

"Also, I don't very much like being called an idiot."

She stormed out of the inn, through the back and turned right. There was no way she was going back to her room; she shared it with Sherlock and right now she didn't want to see him for at least an hour. She paused near the corner of the inn, reading a sign about some historical landmark.

_Cross Key's Grave_

_**Long before the Inn was built, an unmarked grave stone fifty meters from here was found. Stories say that he was either a soldier in a war, or a poor man killed over a land dispute. More popular myths have emerged saying he was a sacrifice for ritual worship. Tying in with the other ghostly myths in the area, including the Hound, those who visit the gravesite report hearing whispering, chanting, and even their own names. There is no proof of these claims, but it does excite those seeking a late night thrill.**_

Etheldrea looked around and saw a section of trees parted like a tunnel and walked towards it. There was a sign pointing the way, and she wondered how she had missed this earlier. It was dark, and after the fright at the moor, the last thing she wanted to do was go into more darkness. But, she didn't want to go back to her room and, the inn was only a short ways away and there was no demon dog in these woods.

She pulled out her torch, flipped it on, and ventured towards the spot. She was there within a minute, and it certainly looked creepy. There was an animal skull near the side of the grave, along with what looked like a radius and an ulna. The area had dying grass in some patches, and there was also dead flowers around grave. The stone itself was chipped and worn, and had a dark mark she suspected to be blood. Etheldrea knelt and ran a hand over it, feeling the sharp jagged points and sides.

CRACK

Etheldrea snapped her head back. The sound had come from right behind her, she was sure, but there wasn't anyone.

CRACK

She stood up and flashed her light around, looking for a hiding person.

"Etheldrea." A voice whispered faintly.

Etheldrea froze. She wanted to call out but her voice was stuck in her throat.

CRACK

Slowly, she walked back in the direction of the inn. She was barely ten feet away she heard her name again, and then she made a break for it. Just as she saw the lights of the inn, a figure stepped in her way. She ran right into it and it grabbed her. She kicked up and it let go as it fell, and she pushed herself away. However, she tripped over a root, dropped the torch, and fell back on her wrist. It hurt very much, and she hoped she hadn't sprained it _again_.

The figure by her groaned, "Etheldrea."

The torch shown on the figure, revealing pale skin, dark hair and clothes, and-

"Dad!?" Etheldrea shouted, "You scared me to death!"

"Well," Sherlock groaned and he slowly stood up, "I think we're even now."

She asked as she stood and brushed herself off, "Why? You know I'm scared of the dark! Why the hell did you come after me?"

"I'll not have you out here alone." He replied, doing the same.

"I'm fine. There nothing out here."

"We don't know that. Let's get back to the inn."

He grabbed her wrist and she winced. He stooped and grabbed the torch. When he shined it on her wrist, they saw blood and a rather large gash from the bottom of her palm down an inch.

"Apply some pressure. You shouldn't need stitches, but you will need a bandage."

* * *

Etheldrea leaned against the bathroom counter with her wrist held out. Sherlock wet a washcloth and began to clean away the blood and dirt. Then he grabbed a small can of disinfectant and sprayed it. Etheldrea hissed as it stung.

"Sorry." Sherlock mumbled, "You and that wrist. Let's make a list, shall we? Broken at four, fractured a year later, twisted three separate times in the past seventeen years, and now split open. It's never going to end, is it?"

She chuckled, "No, I'm afraid not."

He grabbed a large square bandage and put it on.

"There, that should keep you."

"Thanks." she replied and then walked into the bedroom, "You know you have to apologize to him, right?"

"Why? It's true."

"The way you said it though, that was harsh. Just say sorry, that's all."

"Since when did you become a voice of reason?"

"Probably about the time I met John and Abigail."

"Good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're learning some of his better traits, and some of his objectionable ones."

She mumbled, "Yeah, like his stupidity."

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant it was idiotic that you act like him at times. But now that I think about, with how much he looks after you, it really isn't. He's perfectly ordinary; he's the father you deserve."

"Maybe. . . But he's not the father I need."

Sherlock smiled just a bit and went to sit next to her, "You are perfectly extraordinary."

She smiled back at him, "Suck up. You're forgiven."

Etheldrea yawned and Sherlock stood up.

"Get some sleep." He said, "We've got an early morning."

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, and I've a few theories."

She yawned again, "Share?"

"In the morning. Go to sleep."

Etheldrea got up and quickly went to change into her pajamas. Then she got into the bed, pulled back her bed covers, and climbed under them.

"Leave the bathroom light on please."

"Always."

"Night, dad."

"Good night, my Little Wanderer."


	8. The Hounds of Baskerville Part 6

**It's been so long! I'm sorry! Ever since I graduated, I've been in this sort of post-graduation depression slash internal freak out. Then, I had college registration a while ago, and while I feel more confident about things, it has just upped my nerves. Becoming an adult is super scary, and so I've been playing the Sims to make me feel better. Guess what? Sherlock freaking died. He electrocuted himself. Then he came back as a ghost and scared Etheldrea. So, I'm sorry once again, that it's taken so long, but I'm back and feeling better. On we go!**

Mornings light streamed through the window of the room. Etheldrea was waking up to it, slowly and tiredly. After everything that happened last night, it had been a very good rest. She looked around and found that her dad was already gone. She sighed and rolled her eyes, and then got up to get ready.

She left the room and passed by Johns just as he walked out. As they talked, they walked to the dining area together.

"Morning." he said.

"Good morning. Did you have a nice night?"

"Well, it could have been better. Sherlock, is he alright now?"

"I don't really know. He was better when we, well when I went to sleep, but I woke up and he was gone. He was supposed to tell me what theories he has."

"What happened to your wrist?"

"Nothing, just tripped." She shrugged, "After kneeing my dad."

John laughed, "Ok, this I have to hear."

She smiled, "Well, after you left the fire, dad and I had a fight, and I stormed out too. Went for a walk, and he scared me."

"Serves him right."

"What about you? What happened after you left?"

He grumbled, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Well, I'm sure todays to be filled with excitement."

"Yeah. Well, I'm going to go out, see if I can find some more clues. You go eat breakfast."

As they entered pub, John said good bye and left, and Etheldrea went to an empty table. She pulled out her phone and texted Sherlock, but didn't get an answer right away. One of the owners, Gary, came over to get her order but she told him she wasn't hungry. She was on a case after all.

"I thought John said he got you to start eating." A family voice behind her said.

She turned and beckoned to the chair opposite to her, "Have a seat, Inspector."

The Detective Inspector, looking very well-tanned after his vacation, sat down and smiled.

"So, quite a coincidence finding you here, huh?"

"Not really. I talked to Uncle Mycroft last night. He said he was sending you down. You shouldn't have come though, we've haven't done anything that-"

"Illegal?"

"- _would warrant_ our handler."

"I'm not your handler, and I didn't come down here because of your Uncle-"

"Really?" she asked, disbelieving.

"Really. He sounded worried about you guys-"

She scoffed, "Oh please, more like worried for his reputation."

"-And when he explained, I got worried too. Going after this Hellhound seems incredibly dangerous."

"I can, in fact, take care of myself."

"Is that why John has to make sure you eat every morning?"

"It's like dad always says, the body is just transport."

"Maybe, but it still needs to be taken care of."

She rolled her eyes and changed the subject, "Have you considered what I asked?"

"Yes, I've been thinking about it, and honestly I think you should wait another year. It's just one more year of school."

"But I don't need another year of school to join the Yard; I could be in my second year of University if I wanted to be in school."

"If you had done that, you could've had a degree to present when you apply."

"But I don't need a degree to apply. You said so yourself that I would be perfect for _any_ team." To herself she added, "If I learn to follow orders."

"Yes, and you will be. But I think you need just a little more experience with law and government."

"My Uncle_ is_ the government."

"And how often do you listen to a word he says."

"What he has to say is often boring and unimportant."

"Look, I'm not going to say you can't or you should. That's your decision to make, however, my personal opinion is that you should take another year and learn what you can."

She nodded, "Okay, I'll take it into consideration. How was Guadeloupe?"

"Good, really good. It was nice for a vacation."

"And, um, everything's . . . good?" she looked towards his left hand where there was an obvious lack of ring,

"Yeah. Honestly, much better now. But, it's just me now, so-"

"Just you? I thought your nephew was living with you now."

"He went back to be with his mom a couple weeks ago. But, he's made a promise to visit whenever he can."

She nodded, "That's good-"

"And I'm sure you're happy about that."

Etheldrea glared, pushed her chair back, and stood up. Lestrade rolled his eyes and did the same, and then followed her as she walked to the bar.

"I'm kidding." He said.

"I'm not interested."

Etheldrea ordered some water while Lestrade went for a beer. He looked out the door, and spotted John and Sherlock on their way in. Sherlock was talking to John, but then he turned his head and saw Lestrade.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sherlock asked as he stormed in.

"Well, nice to see you too. I'm on holiday, would you believe?"

Etheldrea rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her water.

"No, I wouldn't." Sherlock replied, annoyed.

Lestrade ignored him, "Hello, John."

"Greg!" John replied in greeting, and earning a look from Sherlock.

"I heard you were in the area. What are you up to? You after this Hound of Hell like on the telly?"

"I'm waiting for an explanation, Inspector. Why are you here?"

"I've told you, I'm on holiday."

Etheldrea said "If you can't fool me, there's no way you can fool him."

While Sherlock said, "You're brown as a nut. You're clearly just back from your 'holidays'."

"Yeah, well I fancied another one." Lestrade said, failing to act apathetic.

Sherlock looked at Etheldrea, quickly remembering her being on the phone last night, and realization coming over.

"Oh, this is Mycroft, isn't it?"

"No, look-"

"Of course it is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my _handler_ to- to spy on me _incognito_. Is that why you're calling yourself _Greg_?"

Both John and Etheldrea look confused for a minute while Lestrade looked unamused.

Etheldrea asked, "Dad, you steal his badges often enough, haven't you looked at them?"

"That's his name." John pointed out.

Sherlock asked, "Is it?"

Lestrade gritted his teeth, "Yes – if you'd ever bothered to find out. Look, I'm not your handler, and I don't just do what your brother tells me."

Etheldrea scoffed, but took a quick sip when Lestrade glared at her.

"Actually, you could be just the man we want." John said.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, I've not been idle, Sherlock. I think I might have found something." He pulled out a piece of paper, the receipt he found during check in, "Here. Didn't know if it was relevant; starting to look like it might be. That is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant."

"Excellent."

"Nice scary inspector from Scotland Yard who can put in a few calls might come in very handy."

John rang the bell and they waited for the owners. Etheldrea, meanwhile, turned to Lestrade and fixed him with a look.

"So, you'll go Big Scary Inspector when dad needs it, but when I call in about dealers, and crooks, it's 'try someone else'?"

Lestrade looked a bit sheepish, "You were calling my office every single day. I have bigger cases to work on! And most of the time, those cases involve your dad."

"I can't believe you're skimping out on me. You know that Inspector Phillip's you always send in your place is complete, utter sh-"

She stopped talking as the inn keepers entered. Lestrade pulled out his badge, John passed over the receipt, and the four of them were led to the back room.

As Lestrade went through checking books, Sherlock made coffee. He poured a couple of cups and went to give them to Etheldrea and John.

"What's this?" John asked.

"Coffee, I made coffee."

"You never make coffee."

"I just did. Don't you want it?"

"You don't have to keep apologizing."

Sherlock sighed and John reluctantly took the coffee. Etheldrea took hers, drank some, and then her face scrunched up in disgust. John did the same.

"Dad, you know I don't like it without some sort of creamer."

"I don't take sugar."

Sherlock sighed again and looked like a kicked puppy, and Etheldrea and John reluctantly took another sip. Lestrade, fortunately, started talking about the records, and they could focus on something else.

"These records only go back two months. Someone had the idea when the TV show went out?" Lestrade asked.

"It's me." Billy said, "It was me. I'm sorry Gary, I couldn't help it. I had a bacon sandwich at Carol's wedding and one thing just led to another."

"Nice try."

Gary sighed, "Look, we were trying to give things a bit of a boost, you know? A great big dog running wild up in the moor, it was heaven sent! It was like us having our own Loch Ness Monster."

"Where do you keep it?"

"There's an old mineshaft. It's not too far. It was alright there."

"Was?" Sherlock asked.

"We couldn't control the bloody thing. It was vicious. And then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and . . . you know."

"It's dead?" John asked, walking up to them.

"Put down."

Billy said, "No choice, so it's over."

"It was just a joke, you know?"

"Yeah, hilarious." Lestrade said standing up, "You've nearly driven a man out of his mind."

"Lestrade walked out of the room, with the others who were standing following. John first, then Etheldrea, and Sherlock after a moment.

"You know here's actually pleased that you're here. Secretly pleased." John said, referring to Sherlock.

"Is he?" Lestrade asked as they all walked outside, "That's nice. I suppose he likes having all the same faces back together, appeals to his . . . his?"

John shrugged, "Asperger's?"

Sherlock walked out at that moment and Lestrade asked him, "So you believe them about having the dog destroyed."

"No reason not to."

"Well, hopefully there's no harm done. Not quite sure what to charge them with anyway. I'll have a word with the local force. Alright, that's that then. Catch you later. I'm enjoying this. It's nice to get London out of your lungs."

He started to walk away, and Etheldrea walked with him for a moment.

"About what you said earlier, and me joining the force and all, what if I did part time?"

"It would take you more time, but it could be doable."

"Awesome, thanks."

"See you later, Drea."

She turned to go back, and kept walking with Sherlock as he finished talking with John.

"I've got a theory, but I need to get back into Baskerville to test it." He said as he pulled out his phone.

"How?" John asked, "Can't pull off the ID trick again."

"Might not have to." He smiled as the person on the other end answered, "Hello brother dear. How _are_ you?"

* * *

Getting inside was now significantly easier, and they walked with ease to Barrymore's office. Before they went inside, Sherlock pulled Etheldrea aside while John kept walking.

"What I saw last night, it was massive. Glowing green eyes bright like a florescent light, and matted black fur, and all bigger than _you_."

She nodded, "Ok, but why are you telling me this? It's not actually here, is it?"

"Not sure, but I have suspicions. There should at least be evidence."

"Got it, I'll tell John."

"I already did. Stay with him. The moment we get in there, you're going to start searching."

"Alright. What about you?"

"I'm talking with Barrymore, maybe get into his computer."

She nodded again, "Ok. I'll call you when we find something."

They caught up with John and were let inside. Sherlock after giving John the pass card went to talk with Barrymore. John and Etheldrea went to the lift and went down. They got off at the same room they first visited and looked around. The white room was shutting down, with sheets on the cages, workers leaving, and stations clear of everything.

The workers shut off the main lights, leaving only desk lamps on and the area considerably darker. Etheldrea didn't think about it, and pressed onwards to a door with a less than threating sign. John followed after her and opened it. They walked through an almost hallway like room to another that had rusting fuse boxes, one lone desk, and a broken pipe seeping steam. Not a single thing of important.

They went back to the first lab and were going to have another look; however, the room held a large nine-light lamp that immediately went off. Both John and Etheldrea became disoriented, and then alarms started blaring. Etheldrea blindly followed John to another door. When he tried the pass card, it denied them entry. He tried it again, and the same message came up.

Still blind and now nearly deaf, the two felt a sort of relief when it all stopped. However, all the lights in the lap went off save for a dim select few, and Etheldrea tensed. It was dark and almost too quiet now. John pulled out his flash light and tried looking around, but the imprint of the lamp was making it difficult. Etheldrea closed her eyes and waited for it to go away.

To their right, there was some rustling. Etheldrea, still not seeing, lifted an arm to feel for John, but he was already walking towards the cages. He pulled one sheet back and found nothing. They heard some clanking, and John pulled back the sheet on another empty cage.

Finally, the imprint in her eyes went away and she quickly went after John, staying behind him as he checked the cages. Both of them jumped back as John revealed the third cage and a baboon jumped towards them. Etheldrea clung to the back of John's coat. She shook her head and looked at the floor, and then noticed the fourth cage.

There was a bent in the metal, a large opening present, and big enough for a dog to get out. She shook John's coat and pointed to it.

"Look. . ."

Etheldrea gasped when she heard growling behind her. John turned around, pushed Etheldrea in front of him to the door they came through. Like the other door, the pass card didn't work.

"Oh, come on." John said desperately, "Come on!"

John turned back towards the lap, pushed Etheldrea behind him and pulled out his phone. He dialed Sherlock's number but the latter didn't pick up.

"Damn it." He whispered, "Right."

"There's another door over there." Etheldrea pointed.

"Stay behind me."

They walked as quietly as possible, bending some as they passed some desks and hearing another low growl. At the door, the growling was louder and closer even. John covered his mouth and nose, not letting his breath alert the creature in the lap.

So quiet that he could barely hear, Etheldrea said, "Cages. Now."

John nodded, and they made a break for it. The growling followed them. Etheldrea entered first and pressed her herself to the back. John entered next and then locked it and pulled the sheet down. Etheldrea wrapped her arms around her knees and rested head down. She breathed in and out, trying to control the rising panic she felt.

John's phone rang and he answered it in record time.

"It's here." He breathed into the microphone, "It's in here with us."

"_Where are you?"_ Sherlock asked, his voice sounding so loud in the room.

"Get us out, Sherlock; you've got to get us out. The big lab, the first lab that we saw."

There was another growl, and John's voice cracked, "Now, please!"

"_All right. I'll find you. Keep talking."_

"I can't. It'll hear me."

"_Keep talking. What are you seeing? What is Etheldrea seeing?"_

Etheldrea looked up, seeing only the sheet. It was so _dark_. Was it this dark just a minute ago? Or had she been sitting here longer?

"_John? What do you see?"_

"I don't know, I don't know. But I can hear it."

There was another growl, closer this time, "Did you hear that?"

"_Stay calm, stay calm. Can you see it?_"

"No. I ca-"

John stiffened and moved back from peering out of the cage.

He whispered, "I can see it."

Etheldrea was close to sobbing now, her hands at her mouth and nose. A shadow, the shadow of a dog was moving across the sheet, and she saw it with perfect clarity. The head was turned to the side, but it turned towards them and even through the cotton of the sheet, she could see the luminous eyes glowing green like headlights.

"It's here." John whispered, "It's here."

The shadow walked closer, directly coming to the cage, and the sheet started to move. Etheldrea closed her eyes tight, and then suddenly she heard her dad. She looked up, scared and relieved at the same time.

"Are you all right?" he asked, as John barreled out.

Sherlock crouched into the cage by Etheldrea and gently pulled one hand away from her face.

"Etheldrea . . ." he said with a pitiful look.

She was shaking, but she got out and clung tightly to Sherlock's sleeve. She couldn't speak.

John was frantically looking around, breathing hard, "Jesus Christ! It was the hound, Sherlock. It was here. I swear it, Sherlock. It must-"

The lab was now fully laminated and apparently void of any dogs.

"It must- Did- did- did you see it? You must have!"

Sherlock raised a hand, "It's all right. It's okay now."

"NO IT'S NOT! IT'S NOT OKAY! I saw it. I was wrong!"

Sherlock shrugged, "Well, let's not jump to conclusions."

"What?"

"What did you see?"

"I told you: I saw the hound."

"Huge; red eyes?"

"Yes."

"Glowing?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"What?"

"I made up the bit about glowing, also told Etheldrea the eyes were green. You saw what you expected to see because I told you. You have been drugged. We have all been drugged.

"Drugged?"

"Can you walk?"

"Of course I can walk."

"Come on, then. It's time to lay this ghost."

Etheldrea didn't say anything, still trying to process all of what had happened. He had lied about the eyes? What had she seen? Wait, drugged? How? She hadn't been drugged, had she? She'd have known. What?

The adrenaline coursing through her body was making everything dizzy and unfocused, like a dream. She was barely aware of Sherlock walking towards a door and going through. And John had a hand on her back and was pushing her forward. They room they entered wasn't empty.

Doctor Stapleton was examining a rabbit.

"Well then, back again?" she asked when they entered, "What's on your mind this time?"

"Murder, Dr. Stapleton, refined, cold-blooded murder."

_Stapleton. Rabbit. Murder?_ Etheldrea thought, _what murder? Rabbit?_

Sherlock moved mind her and turned off the lights. The rabbit Doctor Stapleton had started to glow.

And then Etheldrea fainted.


	9. The Hounds of Baskerville Part 7

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Not once during this entire escapade did he think Etheldrea would faint. But there she was, the moment he flipped off the switch and the rabbit glowed, THUMP. John was already trying to rouse her.

"Will you tell what little Kirstie what happened to Bluebell, or shall I?" he asked.

"Okay. What do you want?" Doctor Stapleton asked.

"First, some smelling salts for her." He nodded towards Etheldrea, "And second, can I borrow your microscope?"

Stapleton sighed, put the rabbit away, and then disappeared for a minute. She came with a packet and tossed it to John who opened and used it. Etheldrea was awake with a moment.

"What'd I miss?" she asked.

John helped her to her feet, "Nothing."

Sherlock was already following Doctor Stapleton to a new room, this one filled with all the equipment and chemicals he would need. He set to work immediately, and John, Etheldrea, and Doctor Stapleton could do nothing but sit and wait. It didn't matter much; John and Etheldrea were going over the past ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Both were still feeling off, and Stapleton noticed.

"Are you sure you're okay? You each look very peaky. Though, you did faint."

"No, I'm alright." John replied.

"I'll be fine." Etheldrea said, "It's not the first time I've fainted. Probably won't be the last."

"It was the GFP Gene from the jellyfish, in case you're interested." Stapleton said, trying to end the silence.

"What?" John asked.

"In the rabbits. I call her Victoria if you really want to know."

Etheldrea nodded, "My biology classes talked about that. Relatively easy compared to what we can do nowadays, but still fascinating."

"Why?" John asked.

"Why not?" Stapleton replied, "WE don't ask questions like that here. It isn't done. It was a mix-up anyway. My daughter ended up with one of the lap specimens, so poor Bluebell had to go."

"Your compassion's overwhelming." John replied cynically.

Stapleton replied mockingly back, "I know. I hate myself sometimes."

"So go on then. You can trust me. I'm a doctor. What else have you got hidden away up here?"

She cast a weary glance at Etheldrea, and sighed, "Listen, if you can imagine it, someone is probably doing it somewhere. Of _course_ they are."

"Cloning?"

"Yes, of course. Dolly the Sheep, remember?"

"Human cloning?"

"Why not?"

"What about animals? Not. Sheep. Big animals?"

"Size isn't a problem, not at all. The only limits are ethnics and the law, and both those things can be very flexible. But not here, not at Baskerville."

Etheldrea, along with everyone else, looked up at the sounds of glass shattering and her dad swearing. Sherlock had thrown a slide in anger, not getting the results he wanted. He paced around the spot.

"Nothing there!" he shouted, "It doesn't make any sense."

"What were you expecting to find?" Stapleton asked, her voice raised.

"A drug, of course. It has to be a drug, hallucinogenic or deliriant of some kind. There's no trace of anything in the sugar."

"Sugar?" John questioned.

"Yes, the sugar. It's a simple process of elimination. I saw the Hound; saw as my imagination expected me to see it. A genetically engineered monster. But I knew I couldn't believe the evidence of my own eyes, so there's seven possible reasons for it, the most possible being narcotics. Henry Knight, he saw it too but you two didn't, John, Etheldrea. You didn't see it. Now, we have eaten and drunk exactly the same things since we got to Grimpen apart from one thing: neither of you took sugar in your coffee."

"I see, so-"

"I took it from Henry's kitchen, his sugar." He walked back to the microscope, defeated, "It's perfectly alright."

"But, maybe it's not a drug?"

"No, it _has_ to be a drug. But how did it get into our systems, how? It must be something, something . . . something buried deep." He turned and pointed to them, "Get out. I need to go to my mind palace."

"Your what?" Stapleton asked.

John sighed, knowing this far too well, "He's not going to be doing much talking for a while. We may as well go."

He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and Etheldrea followed.

"His what?"

"Oh, his mind palace. It's a memory technique, a sort of mental map. You plot a map with a location. It doesn't have to be a real place, and then you deposit memories there that theoretically, you can never forget anything. All you have to do is find you way back to it."

Etheldrea said, "Method of Loci is the usual term applied to it. Dad and I may have extended it a bit though."

"So this imaginary location could be anything? A house or a street?" Stapleton asked.

John nodded, "Yeah."

"It's a palace. He said it was a palace?"

"Yeah, well, he would, wouldn't he?"

They exited the room and went back to the first lab again, which thankfully was still lit. They sat down, and Stapleton still had many questions.

She asked Etheldrea, "You mentioned your dad and you? Is yours a palace too?"

"No, far from it. Mines the place I grew up, my grandparent's original house."

"What do you see? Is it like imagining yourself in a room? Or like watching a movie? Or-"

"Both, actually. I visualize myself there, but I can still feel myself where I am. Sometimes, if I concentrate hard enough, it feels like I really am there."

"What does it look like?"

"Um . . . well, anything really. Specific rooms you wouldn't find in a house, others that look exactly like the bedrooms or the sitting room. Never ending rooms. Open doors, locked doors, specific rooms pertaining to specific subjects. If I go to the basement, I can find a morgue."

"What's behind the locked doors?"

"Things I don't want to remember but keep them there just in case."

"Why do you have a morgue?"

"When remembering facts about a dead body, where else would you go?"

"How do you do it?"

"Practice, concentration. Dad taught me when I was around four. I don't know how big his is, but if it's as large as an actual palace, then mine's small in comparison. John is working on making his own. What did you call it, a 'Memory Bungalow'? How's _that_ going?"

He shook his head, "Shut up."

The doors at the end of the lap flew open, and Sherlock stalked in with a determined stride. Everyone stood up, ready to follow him.

"I need access to a computer." He said to Doctor Stapleton.

"Sure thing." She said, and she led them through another lab and to another.

In the computer room, and also adjoined to Barrymore's office, she immediately went to a computer. John stood guard at the door they just came through, and Etheldrea at the other exit.

"Project H.O.U.N.D," Sherlock told her, "I must have read about it, and stored it away. Experiment in a CIA facility in Liberty, Indiana."

The computer beeped.

Stapleton said, "That's as far as my access goes, I'm afraid."

John said, "Well, there must be an override, a password."

"I imagine so, but that would be Major Barrymore's."

Sherlock turned and went to Barrymore's office, flipped on the light and sat in the chair. He spun around, starting his elimination process.

"He sat here when he thought it up." Sherlock said, "Describe him to me."

"You've seen him."

"But describe him."

"Uh, he's a bloody martinet, a throwback, the sort they'd have sent into sewers."

"Good, excellent. Old-fashioned, traditionalist; not the sort that would use his children's names as a password. He loves his job; proud of it and this is work-related, so what's at eye level? Book's, _Jane's Defense Weekly_, bound copies. _Hannibal_, Wellington, Rommel, Churchill's _History of the English Speaking Peoples_, all for volumes. Churchill, he's fond of Churchill. Copy of _the Downing Street Years_. One, two, three, four, five separate biographies of Thatcher."

Etheldrea mumbled, "How does he read all that? I'll read nearly every bloody book under the sun! But never anything he's got."

Sherlock ignored her, still deducing the room, "Mid- nineteen eighties at a guess. Father and son, Barrymore Senior. Medals, Distinguished Service Order?"

John answered, "That date, I'd say, Falkland's Veteran."

"Right, so Thatcher's the more likely bet than Churchill."

Sherlock walked back out to the computer and went to type it in.

"So that's the password?" Stapleton asked.

"No, with a man like Major Barrymore only first names terms will do."

He typed in the word, and the computer started beeping, more like a buffer or loading time than denied access. Etheldrea was sure no one was coming, and went to go look at what they would fine. John walked over too.

Etheldrea read through the screen, absorbing all the important parts: Paranoia, severe frontal lobe damage, blood-brain, gross cranial trauma, dangerous acceleration, multiple homicides. Pictures of the patients showed them screaming in pain, terror, or both. Blood spatters and also surrounding bodies showed up too.

"Jesus." John uttered softly.

Etheldrea shook her head, "I can't- we were drugged with that?"

Sherlock read, "Project H.O.U.N.D, a new deliriant drug which rendered its users incredibly suggestible. They wanted to use it as an anti-personnel weapon to totally disorientate the enemy using fear and stimulus. But they shut it down and hid it away in nineteen eighty-six."

"Because of what it did to the subjects they tested." Stapleton said.

"And what they did to others. Prolonged exposure drove them insane, made them almost uncontrollably aggressive."

"So someone's been doing it again, carrying on the experiments." John said.

"Attempting to refine them, perhaps. For the last twenty years."

Stapleton asked, "Who?"

John asked, "Those names mean anything to you?"

"No, not a thing."

"Five principal scientists, twenty years ago." Sherlock pulled up a photo of the scientists, "Maybe our friend's somewhere in the back of the picture – someone who was old enough to be there at the time of the experiments in 1986 . . ."

Etheldrea saw it at the same time Sherlock did. Though much younger of course, there was no denying that Doctor Bob Frankland was standing in the back, a smile on his face as he posed.

"Maybe somebody who says 'cellphone' because of time spent in America. You remember John?"

John nodded.

Etheldrea asked, "You still have it right? The number?"

"I do. Gave it to us in case we needed him."

"Oh my god." Stapleton said when she saw, "But Bob doesn't even work on- I mean, he's a virologist. This was chemical warfare."

"That's where he started though, and he's never lost the certainty, the obsession that that drug really could work. Nice of him to give us his number. Let's arrange a little meeting."

John's phone rang, and he didn't appear to recognise the number. He answered with a timid hello and only heard crying.

"Who is this?" he asked, and then got the answer, "It's Louise Mortimer. Louise, what's wrong? . . . What? . . . Where are you? . . . Right, stay there. We'll get someone to you, okay?"

"Henry?" Sherlock asked when John ended the call.

"He's attacked her."

"Gone?"

"Mm-hmm."

"There's only one place he'll go to," Sherlock dialed his own phone, "Back to where it all started. Lestrade, get to the Hollow, Dewer's Hollow now and bring a gun."

* * *

They are the second party to arrive; Henry wass already there of course. Lestrade was only minutes behind them. Etheldrea hated it, the darkness and it seemed even darker tonight than the night before, but she ignored it best as she could. There wass something far more important than a childhood fear going on.

They ran through the woods, shadows leaping out at them, and Sherlockwasis the first one down the path to the Hollow. He was shouting at Henry, and when Etheldrea made it down she could see the gun in his mouth.

_Henry was ready, but he shouldn't be._

"Get back! GET AWAY FROM ME!" Henry shouted at them, raising the gun at them.

John spoke in a calm tone, "Easy, Henry, east, just relax."

"I know what I am; I know _what I tried to do_!"

"Just put the gun down. It's okay."

"NO! NO! I KNOW WHAT I AM!"

Sherlock said, equally clam as John, "Yes, I'm sure you do Henry. It's all been explained to you, hasn't it? Explained very carefully."

"What?"

Slowly, he start stepping to Henry, "Someone needed to keep you quiet; needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you'd both clung on to, because you had started to remember. Remember now, Henry. You've got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy."

"I thought it had got my dad. The Hound, I thought- Oh, JESUS. I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE, I DON't-"

He put the gun to his mouth, and John rushed forward shouting for him to stop. Etheldrea watch in horror.

Sherlock shouted, trying to distract him, "Henry, remember! 'Liberty In.' Two words. Two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago. You started to piece things together. Remember what really happened here that night. It wasn't an animal, was it, Henry? Not a monster, a man."

Henry looked up, lowering the gun, and stared like he was a thousand years away.

"You couldn't cope, you were just a child. So you rationalized it into something very different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so that no-one would believe a word that you said."

John inched forward towards Henry, and behind them Lestrade finally showed up. John reached Henry and took the gun. Henry was still confused though and looked to Sherlock for the answer.

"But we saw it- We saw it last night. We did."

"Yes, there was a dog, henry, leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it, saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus; that's how it works. But there never was any monster."

Upon hearing howling and growling, everyone looked up. At the edge of the Hollow, it was the Hound. Etheldrea saw it as Sherlock had described it, bigger than her, glowing and green eyes. It was just like being back in the cage. Involuntarily she took a step back, and then fell down. Leaves crunched beneath her, shuffling with her and she tried to get back.

Henry was freaking out again, shouting NO! over and over. John looked over to Lestrade, and even he could see the monster dog.

John pointed out, "He is not drugged, Sherlock. So what's that?"

"All right, it's still here, but it's just a dog, Henry. It's nothing more than an ordinary dog."

Etheldrea bowed her head and shut her eyes, trying to imagine a different dog in its place. But after seeing that, what was she supposed to imagine? A poodle? A corgi?

"NO!" Sherlock shouted, "It's not you! You're not here!"

Etheldrea looked up. Behind her, a man in a mask had emerged from the woods. Sherlock had pulled the mask off, and Etheldrea saw Doctor Frankland, but her dad was seeing someone else. Sherlock whirled Frankland around, away from the deepest section of fog, and he finally saw who it really was. He looked around the area in realization.

"The fog! It's the fog! The drug, it's in the fog! Aerosol dispersal, that's what it said in those records. Project H.O.U.N.D, it's the fog, a chemical minefield!"

As he said this, the dog was still advancing on them, jumping forward inch by inch.

Frankland saw the beast and shouted, "For god's sake, kill it! Kill it!"

Lestrade shot and missed, but John, barely shaking, hit it straight away. The beast whined and fell back, down to the ground and lay unmoving. Etheldrea got to her feet, and took a step to her dad and Frankland. For a moment, no one spoke.

Then, Sherlock rushed forward and grabbed Henry, trying to get him to look at it. He bullied him forward, and Henry saw the dog. Rather massive, but now just a dog. Henry turned around and stared at Frankland, his face twisting in rage

"YOU BASTARD!" Henry yelled and rushed forward, tackling Frankland.

John and Lestrade tried pulling him off and succeeded.

"Why did you just kill me!?"

"Because dead men get listened to." Sherlock answered, "He needed to do more than kill you. He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet. A chemical minefield, pressure pads in the ground, dosing you up every time you came back here. Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once."

He spun in a slow circle, arms raised and smiling, "Oh this case, Henry. Thank you. It's been brilliant."

Etheldrea covered her mouth to stifle her laugh, but John was not amused.

"Sherlock, _timing_."

"Not good?"

"No, no, I'ts okay." Henry said, "It's fine, because this means . . . this means that my dad was right. He found something out, didn't he, and that's why you'd killed him – because he was right, and he'd found you right in the middle of an experiment."

Behind them, the dog growled, apparently just stunned. John raised his gun and fired, killing it for good this time. It was distraction enough, that Frankland grabbed Etheldrea around the mouth and nose, and hauled her up to the top of the hollow. He shoved her down there, and took off.

She was immediately on her feet and after him, no more than feet away. The others were gaining fast, but not enough. She was so close, she could just almost reach his coat. They jumped over tree branches, ducked under them. The whole time she was shouting for him to stop, but he wouldn't!

Etheldrea saw the barbed wire fence coming up. When Frankland climbed over it, she was ready to follow. One hand was on top of the wooden post, one foot on the second line. She pushed herself up, and started to cross a leg over.

"Etheldrea! No! Stop!"

But then, she felt arms circle her waist and pull her back. She felt herself fall backwards, and then she hit the ground, and there was a weight on top of her.

She saw the light of the blast from under whatever was covering her, and then she felt the heat and then the boom of the explosion. Frankland was gone, and she could have been right with him. The weight moved, and she looked to her right to see Sherlock.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, a bit breathless, "Yeah. I'm good. Uh, thanks."

She turned back to the field, watching the remaining raining embers and smoke come down. Whatever was left of Frankland probably landed already. Everyone watched in melancholy that their criminal got away, but in relief that it was finally over.


End file.
